THGLSDYOFTHeflROOSTOOK 


UNJVWSITY  Of 

0*i 

cauz 


THE 


LADY   OF    THE    AROOSTOOK 


BY 


W:  D.  HOWELLS 

AUTHOR  OF  "  A  FOREGONE  CONCLUSION,"  "  A  CHANCE  ACQUAINTANCE-" 
"VENETIAN  LIFE,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1879  AND  1907  BY  W.  D.  HOWELLS 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


P5 

20Z5 

L3 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AEOOSTOO.K 


IN  the  best  room  of  a  farm-house  on  the  skirts  of 
a  village  in  the  hills  of  Northern  Massachusetts, 
there  sat  one  morning  in  August  three  people  who 
were  not  strangers  to  the  house,  but  who  had  ap- 
parently assembled  in  the  parlor  as  the  place  most 
in  accord  with  an  unaccustomed  finery  in  their 
dress.  One  was  an  elderly  woman  with  a  plain, 
honest  face,  as  kindly  in  expression  as  she  could  be 
perfectly  sure  she  felt,  and  no  more ;  she  rocked 
herself  softly  in  the  haircloth  arm-chair,  and  ad- 
dressed as  father  the  old  man  who  sat  at  one  end 
of  the  table  between  the  windows,  and  drubbed 
noiselessly  upon  it  with  his  stubbed  fingers,  while 
his  lips,  puckered  to  a  whistle,  emitted  no  sound. 
His  face  had  that  distinctly  fresh-shaven  effect 
which  once  a  week  is  the  advantage  of  shaving  no 
oftener :  here  and  there,  in  the  deeper  wrinkles,  a 
frosty  stubble  had  escaped  the  razor.  He  wore  an 
old-fashioned,  low  black  satin  stock,  over  the  to}.' 
of  which  the  linen  of  his  unstarched  collar  con- 
trived with  difficulty  to  make  itself  seen  ;  his  high- 

orowned,  lead-colored  straw   hat  lay  on   the  table 
i 


2  THE  LADY  OF   THE   AROOSTOOK. 

before  him.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table  sat  a 
young  girl,  who  leaned  upon  it  with  one  arm,  prop- 
ping her  averted  face  on  her  hand.  The  window 
was  open  beside  her,  and  she  was  staring  out  upon 
the  door-yard,  where  the  hens  were  burrowing  for 
coolness  in  the  soft  earth  under  the  lilac  bushes , 
from  time  to  time  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  he  I 
eyes. 

"I  don't  like  this  part  of  it,  father,"  said  the 
elderly  woman,  —  "  Lyddy's  seeming  to  feel  about 
it  the  way  she  does  right  at  the  last  moment,  as 
you  may  say."  The  old  man  made  a  noise  in  his 
throat  as  if  he  might  speak ;  but  he  only  un- 
puckered  his  mouth,  and  stayed  his  fingers,  while 
the  other  continued :  "  I  don't  want  her  to  go  now, 
no  more  than  ever  I  did.  I  ain't  one  to  think  that 
eatin'  up  everything  on  your  plate  keeps  it  from 
wastin',  and  I  never  was ;  and  I  say  that  even  if 
you  could  n't  get  the  money  back,  it  would  cost  no 
more  to  have  her  stay  than  to  have  her  go." 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  high, 
husky  treble,  "but  what  I  could  get  some  of  it 
back  from  the  captain ;  may  be  all.  He  did  n't 
seem  any  ways  graspin'.  I  don't  want  Lyddy 
should  feel,  any  more  than  you  do,  Maria,  that 
we  'ie  glad  to  have  her  go.  But  what  I  look  at  is 
this :  as  long  as  she  has  this  idea  —  Well,  it  'a 
like  this  —  Id'  know  as  I  can  express  it,  either." 
He  relapsed  into  the  comfort  people  find  in  giving 
ip  a  difficult  thing. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  3 

"Oh,  I  know!"  returned  the  woman.  "I  un 
ierstand  it 's  an  opportunity  ;  you  might  call  it  a 
leadin',  almost,  that  it  would  be  flyin'  in  the  face  of 
Providence  to  refuse.  I  presume  her  gifts  were 
given  her  for  improvement,  and  it  would  be  the 
same  as  buryin'  them  in  the  ground  for  her  to  stay 
up  here.  But  I  do  say  that  I  want  Lyddy  should 
feel  just  so  about  goin',  or  not  go  at  all.  It  ain't 
like  goin'  among  strangers,  though,  if  it  is  in  a 
•trange  land.  They  're  her  father's  own  kin,  and  if 
they  're  any  ways  like  him  they're  waxm-hearted 
enough,  if  that 's  all  you  want.  I  guess  they  li 
do  what 's  right  by  Lyddy  whe^  she  gets  there, 
A  nd  1  try  to  look  at  it  this  way  :  that  long  before 
that  maple  by  the  gate  is  red  she  '11  be  with  her 
father's  own  sister ;  and  I  for  one  don't  mean  to  let 
it  worry  me."  She  made  search  for  her  handker- 
chief, and  wiped  away  the  tears  that  fell  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  old  man  ;  "  and  before  the 
leaves  are  on  the  ground  we  shall  more  'n  have  got 
our  first  letter  from  her.  I  declare  for't,"  he 
fcdded,  after  a  tremulous  pause,  "  I  was  goin'  to  say 
how  Lyddy  would  enjoy  readin'  it  to  us  !  I  don't 
*eem  to  get  it  rightly  into  my  head  that  she  's  goin' 
away." 

"  It  ain't  as  if  Lyddy  was  leavin'  any  life  behind 
her  that 's  over  and  above  pleasant,"  resumed  the 
woman.  "  She 's  a  good  girl,  and  I  never  want  to 
*oe  a  more  uncomplainin'  •  but  I  know  it 's  dullei 


i  THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK. 

and  duller  here  all  the  while  for  her,  with  us  two 
aid  folks,  and  no  young  company ;  and  I  d'  know  as 
it  *fl  been  any  better  the  two  winters  she  's  taught 
in  the  Mill  Village.  .That's  what  reconciles  me, 
on  Lrjfddy's  account,  as  much  as  anything.  I  ain't 
one  to  set  much  store  on  worldly  ambition,  and  I 
never  was  ;  and  I  d'  know  as  I  care  for  Lyddy's  ad- 
vancement, as  you  may  call  it.  I  believe  that  aa 
far  forth  as  true  happiness  goes  she  'd  be  as  well  off 
here  as  there.  But  I  don't  say  but  what  she  would 
be  more  satisfied  in  the  end,  and  as  long  as  you 
can't  have  happiness,  in  this  world,  I  say  you'd 
better  have  satisfaction.  Is  that  Josiah  Whitman's 
hearse  goin'  past  ? "  she  asked,  rising  from  her 
chair,  and  craning  forward  to  bring  her  eyes  on 
a  level  with  the  window,  while  she  suspended  the 
agitation  of  the  palm-leaf  fan  which  she  had  not 
ceased  to  ply  during  her  talk  ;  she  remained  a  mo- 
ment with  the  quiescent  fan  pressed  against  her 
bosom,  and  then  she  stepped  out  of  the  door,  and 
down  the  walk  to  the  gate.  "  Josiah  !  "  she  called, 
while  the  old  man  looked  and  listened  at  the  win- 
low.  "  Who  you  be'n  buryin'  ?  " 

The  man  halted  his  hearse,  and  answered  briefly, 
'*  Mirandy  Holcomb." 

"  Why,  I  thought  the  funeral  wa'  n't  to  be  till  to- 
morrow I  Well,  I  declare,"  said  the  woman,  as  she 
reentered  the  room  and  sat  down  again  in  her  rock 
ing-chair,  "  I  did  n't  ask  him  whether  it  was  Mr 
Gfroodlow  or  Mr.  Baldwin  preached  the  sermon 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOR.  6 

I  was  so  put  out  hearin'  it  was  Mirandy,  you  might 
lay  I  forgot  to  ask  him  anything.  Mirandy  was 
always  a  well  woman  till  they  moved  down  to  the 
Mill  Village  and  began  takin'  the  nands  to  board, 
—  so  many  of  'em.  When  I  think  of  Lyddy'i 
teachin'  there  another  winter,  —  well,  I  could  al- 
most rejoice  that  she  was  goin'  away.  She  ain't  a 
mite  too  strong  as  it  is." 

Here  the  woman  paused,  and  the  old  man  struck 
in  with  his  quaint  treble  while  she  fanned  herself  in 
silence :  "  I  do  suppose  the  voyage  is  goin'  to  be 
everything  for  her  health.  She  '11  be  from  a  month 
to  six  weeks  gettin'  to  Try-East,  and  that  11  be  a 
complete  change  of  air,  Mr.  Goodlow  says.  And 
she  won't  have  a  care  on  her  mind  the  whole  way 
out.  It  '11  be  a  season  of  rest  and  quiet.  I  did  wish, 
just  for  the  joke  of  the  thing,  as  you  may  say,  that 
the  ship  had  be'n  goin'  straight  to  Venus,  and 
Lyddy  could  'a'  walked  right  in  on  'em  at  breakfast, 
some  morning.  I  should  liked  it  to  be'n  a  surprise. 
But  there  wa'n't  any  ship  at  Boston  loadin'  for 
Venus,  and  they  did  n't  much  believe  I  'd  find  one 
%t  New  York.  So  I  just  took  up  with  the  captain 
of  the  Aroostook's  offer.  He  says  she  can  telegraph 
to  her  folks  at  Venus  as  soon  as  she  gets  to  Try- 
East,  and  she 's  welcome  to  stay  on  the  ship  till  they 
ijome  for  her.  I  didn't  think  of  their  havin'  our 
mod'n  improvements  out  there ;  but  he  says  they 
lave  telegraphs  and  railroads  every wheres,  the  same 
10  we  do ;  and  they  're  real  kind  and  polite  when 


5  THE  LADY   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK. 

yc u  get  used  to  'em.  The  captain,  he's  as  nice  a 
man  as  I  ever  see.  His  wife 's  be'n  two  or  three 
voyages  with  him  in  the  Aroostook,  and  he  '11  know 
just  how  to  have  Lyddy 's  comfort  looked  after.  He 
showed  me  the  state-room  she 's  goin'  to  have.  Well, 
it  ain't  over  and  above  large,  but  it 's  pretty  as  a 
pink :  all  clean  white  paint,  with  a  solid  mahogany 
edge  to  the  berth,  and  a  mahogany-framed  lookin'- 
glass  on  one  side,  and  little  winders  at  the  top,  and 
white  lace  curtains  to  the  bed.  He  says  he  had  it 
fixed  up  for  his  wife,  and  he  lets  Lyddy  have  it  all 
for  her  own.  She  can  set  there  and  do  her  mendin' 
when  she  don't  feel  like  comin'  into  the  cabin.  The 
cabin  —  well,  I  wish  you  could  see  that  cabin,  Maria ! 
The  first  mate  is  a  fine-appearing  man,  too.  Some 
of  the  sailors  looked  pretty  rough ;  but  I  guess  it 
was  as  much  their  clothes  as  anything ;  and  I 
d'  know  as  Lyddy  'd  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
them,  any  way."  The  old  man's  treble  ceased,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  shrilling  of  a  locust  in  one 
of  the  door-yard  maples  died  away;  both  voices, 
•irid,  nasal,  and  high,  lapsed  as  one  into  a  common 
kilence. 

The  woman  stirred  impatiently  in  her  chair,  as  if 
both  voices  had  been  repeating  something  heard 
many  times  before.  They  seemed  to  renew  her  dis- 
tontent.  "  Yes,  I  know ;  I  know  all  that,  father 
But  it  ain't  the  mahogany  I  think  of.  It 's  the 
thild's  gettin'  there  safe  and  well." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  man,  "I  asked  the  captain 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  7 

about  the  seasickness,  and  he  says  she  ain't  nigh  so 
likely  to  be  sick  as  she  would  on  the  steamer ;  the 
motion's  more  regular,  and  she  won't  have  the 
smell  of  the  machinery.  That's  what  he  said. 
And  he  said  the  seasickness  would  do  her  good,  any 
way.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want  her  to  be  sick  anjf 
more  than  you  do,  Maria."  He  added  this  like  one 
who  has  been  unjustly  put  upon  his  defense. 

They  now  both  remained  silent,  the  woman  rock- 
ing herself  and  fanning,  and  the  old  man  holding 
his  fingers  suspended  from  their  drubbing  upon  the 
table,  and  looking  miserably  from  the  woman  in  the 
rocking-chair  to  the  girl  at  the  window,  as  if  a  strict 
inquiry  into  the  present  situation  might  convict  him 
of  it  in  spite  of  his  innocence.  The  girl  still  sat 
with  her  face  turned  from  them,  and  still  from  time 
to  time  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and 
wiped  away  the  tears.  The  locust  in  the  maple  be- 
gan again,  and  shrilled  inexorably.  Suddenly  the 
girl  leaped  to  her  feet. 

"  There  's  the  stage !  "  she  cried,  with  a  tumult 
in  her  voice  and  manner,  and  a  kind  of  choking 
sob.  She  showed,  now  that  she  stood  upright,  the 
ilim  and  elegant  shape  which  is  the  divine  right  of 
American  girlhood,  clothed  with  the  stylishness  that 
instinctive  taste  may  evoke,  even  in  a  hill  town, 
from  study  of  paper  patterns,  Harper's  Bazar,  and 
the  costume  of  summer  boarders.  Her  dress  wa* 
Carried  with  spirit  and  effect. 

'*  Lydia  Blood  I  "  cried  the  other  woman,  spring- 


6  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

ing  responsively  to  her  feet,  also,  and  starting  to 
ward  the  girl,  "  don't  you  go  a  step  without  you  feel 
just  like  it !  Take  off  your  things  this  minute  and 
stay,  if  you  would  n't  jus'  as  lives  go.  It 's  hard 
enough  to  have  you  go,  child,  without  seemin'  to 
force  you ! " 

"  Oh,  aunt  Maria,"  answered  the  girl,  piteously, 
*  it  almost  kills  me  to  go;  but  I'm  doing  it,  not 
you.  I  know  how  you  'd  like  to  have  me  stay. 
But  don't  say  it  again,  or  I  could  n't  bear  up ;  and 
I  'ra  going  now,  if  I  have  to  be  carried." 

The  old  man  had  risen  with  the  others ;  he  was 
shorter  than  either,  and  as  he  looked  at  them  he 
seemed  half  awed,  half  bewildered,  by  so  much 
drama.  Yet  it  was  comparatively  very  little.  The 
girl  did  not  offer  to  cast  herself  upon  her  aunt's 
neck,  and  her  aunt  did  not  offer  her  an  embrace 
it  was  only  their  hearts  that  clung  together  as  they 
simply  shook  hands  and  kissed  each  other.  Lydia 
whirled  away  for  her  last  look  at  herself  in  the 
glass  over  the  table,  and  her  aunt  tremulously 
began  to  put  to  rights  some  slight  disorder  in  the 
girl's  hat. 

"  Father,"  she  said  sharply,  "  are  Lyddy's  things 
ail  ready  there  by  the  door,  so 's  not  to  keep  Ezra 
Perkins  waitin'  ?  You  know  he  always  grumble? 
K>.  And  then  he  gets  you  to  the  cars  so  't  you  have 
fco  wait  half  an  hour  before  they  start."  She  con- 
tinued to  pin  and  pull  at  details  of  Lydia's  dress,  tc 
which  she  descended  from  her  hat.  "  It  sets  real 
lice  on  you,  Lyddy.  I  guess  you  '11  think  of  the 


THE  LADY   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  9 

time  we  had  gettin'  it  made  up,  when  you  wear  it 
out  there."  Miss  Maria  Latham  laughed  nervously. 

With  a  harsh  banging  and  rattling,  a  yellow 
Concord  coach  drew  up  at  the  gate  where  Miss 
Maria  had  stopped  the  hearse.  The  driver  got 
down,  and  without  a  word  put  Lydia's  boxes  and 
bags  into  the  boot,  and  left  two  or  three  light  par 
eels  for  her  to  take  into  the  coach  with  her. 

Miss  Maria  went  down  to  the  gate  with  her  fa- 
ther and  niece.  "  Take  the  back  seat,  father  !  "  she 
said,  as  the  old  man  offered  to  take  the  middle 
place.  "  Let  them  that  come  later  have  what  'a 
left.  You  '11  be  home  to-night,  father  ;  I  '11  set  up 
for  you.  Good-by  again,  Lyddy."  She  did  not 
kiss  the  girl  again,  or  touch  her  hand.  Their  de- 
cent and  sparing  adieux  had  been  made  in  the 
house.  As  Miss  Maria  returned  to  the  door,  the 
hens,  cowering  conscience-stricken  under  the  lilacs, 
sprang  up  at  sight  of  her  with  a  screech  of  guilty 
alarm,  and  flew  out  over  the  fence. 

"  Well,  I  vow,"  soliloquized  Miss  Maria,  "  from 
where  she  set  Lyddy  must  have  seen  them  pestg 
tnder  the  lilacs  the  whole  time,  and  never  said  a 
word."  She  pushed  the  loosened  soil  into  place 
with  the  side  of  her  ample  slipper,  and  then  went 
into  the  house,  where  she  kindled  a  fire  in  the 
titchen  stove,  and  made  herself  a  cup  of  Japan 
tea :  a  variety  of  the  herb  which  our  country  peo- 
ple prefer,  apparently  because  it  affords  the  same 
itimulus  with  none  of  the  pleasure  given  by  the 
Chinese  leaf. 


II 

LroiA  and  her  grandfather  reached  Boston  &t 
lour  o'clock,  and  the  old  man  made  a  bargain,  as  he 
fancied,  with  an  expressman  to  carry  her  baggage 
across  the  city  to  the  wharf  at  which  the  Aroostook 
lay.  The  expressman  civilly  offered  to  take  their 
small  parcels  without  charge,  and  deliver  them  with 
the  trunk  and  large  bag  ;  but  as  he  could  not  check 
them  all  her  grandfather  judged  it  safest  not  to 
part  with  them,  and  he  and  Lydia  crowded  into  the 
horse-car  with  their  arms  and  hands  full.  The  con- 
ductor obliged  him  to  give  up  the  largest  of  these 
burdens,  and  hung  the  old-fashioned  oil-cloth  sack 
on  the  handle  of  the  brake  behind,  where  Mr. 
Latham  with  keen  anxiety,  and  Lydia  with  shame, 
watched  it  as  it  swayed  back  and  forth  with  the 
motion  of  the  car  and  threatened  to  break  loose 
from  its  hand-straps  and  dash  its  bloated  bulk  to 
the  ground.  The  old  man  called  out  to  the  con- 
ductor to  be  sure  and  stop  in  Scollay's  Square,  and 
the  people,  who  had  already  stared  uncomfortably 
at  Lydia's  bundles,  all  smiled.  Her  grandfather 
asras  going  to  repeat  his  direction  as  the  conductor 
tiade  no  sign  of  having  heard  it,  when  his  neighbor 
•aid  kindly,  "  The  car  always  stops  in  Scollay'i 
Square." 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  11 

"  Then  why  could  n't  he  say  so  ?  "  retorted  the 
jld  man,  in  his  high  nasal  key ;  and  now  the  people 
laughed  outright.  He  had  the  nervous  restlessness 
of  age  when  out  of  its  wonted  place :  he  could  not 
remain  quiet  in  the  car,  for  counting  and  securing 
his  parcels  ;  when  they  reached  Scollay's  Square, 
and  were  to  change  cars,  he  ran  to  the  car  they  were 
to  take,  though  there  was  abundant  time,  and  sat 
down  breathless  from  his  effort.  He  was  eager  then 
that  they  should  not  be  carried  too  far,  and  was 
constantly  turning  to  look  out  of  the  window  to  as- 
certain their  whereabouts.  His  vigilance  ended  in 
their  getting  aboard  the  East  Boston  ferry-boat  in 
the  car,  and  hardly  getting  ashore  before  the  boat 
started.  They  now  gathered  up  their  burdens  once 
more,  and  walked  toward  the  wharf  they  were  seek- 
ing, past  those  squalid  streets  which  open  upon  the 
docks.  At  the  corners  they  entangled  themselves 
in  knots  of  truck- teams  and  hucksters'  wagons  and 
horse-cars ;  once  they  brought  the  traffic  of  the 
neighborhood  to  a  stand-still  by  the  thoroughness 
of  their  inability  and  confusion.  They  wandered 
down  the  wrong  wharf  amidst  the  slime  cast  up  by 
the  fishing  craft  moored  in  the  dock  below,  and 
made  their  way  over  heaps  of  chains  and  cord- 
age, and  through  the  hand -carts  pushed  hither  and 
thither  with  their  loads  of  fish,  and  so  struggled 
}ack  to  the  avenue  which  ran  along  the  top  of  all 
the  wharves.  The  water  of  the  docks  was  of  a 
ivid  turbidity,  which  teemed  with  the  gelatinoui 


12  THE  LADY   OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

globes  of  the  sun-fish ;  and  people  were  rowing 
about  there  in  pleasure-boats,  and  sailors  on  floats 
were  painting  the  hulls  of  the  black  ships.  The 
faces  of  the  men  they  met  were  red  and  sunburned 
mostly,  —  not  with  the  sunburn  of  the  fields,  but 
of  the  sea ;  these  men  lurched  in  their  gait  with 
an  uncouth  heaviness,  yet  gave  them  way  kindly 
enough ;  but  certain  dull-eyed,  frowzy-headed  worn 
en  seemed  to  push  purposely  against  her  grandfa- 
ther, and  one  of  them  swore  at  Lydia  for  taking  up 
all  the  sidewalk  with  her  bundles.  There  were 
such  dull  eyes  and  slattern  heads  at  the  open  win- 
dows of  the  shabby  houses  ;  and  there  were  gaunt, 
bold-faced  young  girls  who  strolled  up  and  down 
the  pavements,  bonnetless  and  hatless,  and  chatted 
into  the  windows,  and  joked  with  other  such  girls 
whom  they  met.  Suddenly  a  wild  outcry  rose  from 
the  swarming  children  up  one  of  the  intersecting 
streets,  where  a  woman  was  beating  a  small  boy 
over  the  head  with  a  heavy  stick :  the  boy  fell  howl- 
ing and  writhing  to  the  ground,  and  the  cruel  blowa 
still  rained  upon  him,  till  another  woman  darted 
from  an  open  door  and  caught  the  child  up  with 
Dne  hand,  and  with  the  other  wrenched  the  stick 
away  and  flung  it  into  the  street.  No  words  passed, 
and  there  was  nothing  to  show  whose  child  the  vic- 
tim was  ;  the  first  woman  walked  off,  and  while  the 
boy  rubbed  his  head  and  arms,  and  screamed  with 
he  pain,  the  other  children,  whose  sports  had  been 
icarcely  interrupted,  were  shouting  and  laughing  al' 
%bout  him  again. 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  13 

*'  Grandfather,"  said  Lydia  faintly,  "  let  is  go 
iown  here,  and  rest  a  moment  in  the  shade.  I'm 
almost  worn  out."  She  pointed  to  the  open  and 
quiet  space  at  the  side  of  the  lofty  granite  ware- 
house which  they  had  reached. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  set  down  a  minute,  too,"  said 
her  grandfather.  "  Lyddy,"  he  added,  as  they  re- 
leased their  aching  arms  from  their  bags  and  bun- 
dles, and  sank  upon  the  broad  threshold  of  a  door 
which  seemed  to  have  been  shut  ever  since  the 
decay  of  the  India  trade,  "  I  don't  believe  but  what 
it  would  have  be'n  about  as  cheap  in  the  end  to 
come  down  in  a  hack.  But  I  acted  for  what  1 
thought  was  the  best.  I  supposed  we  'd  be'n  there 
before  now,  and  the  idea  of  givin'  a  dollar  for  ridin' 
about  ten  minutes  did  seem  sinful.  I  ain't  noways 
afraid  the  ship  will  sail  without  you.  Don't  you 
fret  any.  I  don't  seem  to  know  rightly  just  where 
I  am,  but  after  we'  ve  rested  a  spell  I  '11  leave  you 
here,  and  inquire  round.  It 's  a  real  quiet  place, 
and  I  guess  your  things  will  be  safe." 

He  took  off  his  straw  hat  and  fanned  his  face 
with  it,  while  Lydia  leaned  her  head  against  the 
door  frame  and  closed  her  eyes.  Presently  she 
heard  the  trampling  of  feet  going  by,  but  she  did 
not  open  her  eyes  till  the  feet  paused  in  a  hesitat- 
ing way,  and  a  voice  asked  her  grandfather,  in  the 
firm,  neat  tone  which  she  had  heard  summer  board- 
ers from  Boston  use,  "  Is  the  young  lady  ill  ?  "  She 
iow  looked  up,  and  blushed  like  fire  to  see  two  hand 


14  THE  LADY   OP   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

pome  young  men  regarding  her  with  frank  coinpa* 
lion. 

"  No,"  said  her  grandfather;  "  a  little  beat  out, 
that  's  all.  We  've  been  trying  to  find  Lucas 
Wharf,  and  we  don't  seem  somehow  just  to  hii 
on  it." 

"  This  is  Lucas  Wharf,"  said  the  young  man. 
He  made  an  instinctive  gesture  of  salutation  toward 
his  hat,  with  the  hand  in  which  he  held  a  cigar ;  he 
put  the  cigar  into  his  mouth  as  he  turned  from 
them,  and  the  smoke  drifted  fragrantly  back  to 
Lydia  as  he  tramped  steadily  and  strongly  on  down 
the  wharf,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  his  companion. 

"  Well,  I  declare  for 't,  so  it  is,"  said  her  grand- 
father, getting  stiffly  to  his  feet  and  retiring  a  few 
paces  to  gain  a  view  of  the  building  at  the  base 
of  which  they  had  been  sitting.  "  Why,  I  might 
known  it  by  this  buildin'  I  But  where  's  the  Aroos- 
took,  if  this  is  Lucas  Wharf  ?  "  He  looked  wist- 
fully in  the  direction  the  young  men  had  taken,  but 
they  were  already  too  far  to  call  after. 

"  Grandfather,"  said  the  girl,  "  do  I  look  pale  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  don't  now,"  answered  the  old  man, 
limply.  "  You  Ve  got  a  good  color  now." 

"  What  right  had  he,"  she  demanded,  u  to  speak 
to  you  about  me  ?  " 

"  I  d'  know  but  what  you  did  look  rather  pale 
48  you  set  there  with  your  head  leaned  back.  I 
i'  know  as  I  noticed  much." 

"  Htt  took  us  for  two  beggars,  —  two  tramps  ! 


THE   LADY    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  15 

ihe  exclaimed,  "  sitting  here  with  our  bundles  scat- 
tered round  us !  " 

The  old  man  did  not  respond  to  this  conjecture  j 
it  probably  involved  matters  beyond  his  emotional 
reach,  though  he  might  have  understood  them  when 
ha  was  younger.  He  stood  a  moment  with  hie 
mouth  puckered  to  a  whistle,  but  made  no  sound, 
and  retired  a  step  or  two  farther  from  the  building 
and  looked  up  at  it  again.  Then  he  went  toward 
the  dock  and  looked  down  into  its  turbid  waters, 
and  returned  again  with  a  face  of  hopeless  perplex- 
ity. "  This  is  Lucas  Wharf,  and  no  mistake,"  he 
said.  "  I  know  the  place  first-rate,  now.  But  what 
I  can't  make  out  is,  What 's  got  the  Aroostook  ?  " 

A  man  turned  the  corner  of  the  warehouse  from 
the  street  above,  and  came  briskly  down  towards 
them,  with  his  hat  off,  and  rubbing  his  head  and 
face  with  a  circular  application  of  a  red  silk  hand- 
kerchief. He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  blue  flannel, 
very  neat  and  shapely,  and  across  his  ample  waist- 
coat stretched  a  gold  watch  chain  ;  in  his  left  hand 
he  carried  a  white  Panama  hat.  He  was  short  and 
stout ;  his  round  florid  face  was  full  of  a  sort  of 
prompt  kindness  ;  his  small  blue  eyes  twinkled  un- 
der shaggy  brows  whose  sandy  color  had  not  yet 
taken  the  grizzled  tone  of  his  close-clipped  hair  and 
beard.  From  his  clean  wristbands  his  hands  came 
ant,  plump  and  large  •  stiff,  wiry  hairs  stood  up  on 
iheir  backs,  and  under  these  various  designs  in  tat- 
tooing showed  their  purple. 


16  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Lydia's  grandfather  stepped  out  to  meet  and 
halt  this  stranger,  as  he  drew  near,  glancing  quickly 
from  the  gir]  to  the  old  man,  and  then  at  their  bun- 
dles. "  Can  you  tell  me  where  a  ship  named  the 
Aroostook  is,  that  was  layin'  at  this  wharf  —  Lucas 
Wharf  —  a  fortnight  ago,  and  better  ?  " 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can,  Mr.  Latham,"  answered 
the  stranger,  with  a  quizzical  smile,  offering  one  of 
his  stout  hands  to  Lydia's  grandfather.  "  You 
don't  seem  to  remember  your  friends  very  well,  do 
you  ?  " 

The  old  man  gave  a  kind  of  crow  expressive  of  an 
otherwise  unutterable  relief  and  comfort.  "  Well, 
if  it  ain't  Captain  Jenness !  I  be'n  so  turned 
about,  I  declare  for 't,  I  don't  believe  I  'd  ever 
known  you  if  you  had  n't  spoke  up.  Lyddy,"  lie 
cried  with  a  child-like  joy,  "  this  is  Captain  Jen- 
ness  !  " 

Captain  Jenness  having  put  on  his  hat  changed 
Mr.  Latham's  hand  into  his  left,  while  he  stretched 
his  great  right  hand  across  it  and  took  Lydia's  long, 
Blim  fingers  in  its  grasp,  and  looked  keenly  into  her 
face.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  glad  to  see  you,  Misa 
Blood.  (You  see  I  've  got  your  name  down  on  my 
papers.)  Hope  you  're  well.  Ever  been  a  sea- 
voyage  before?  Little  homesick,  eh?"  he  asked, 
as  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  He  kept 
pressing  Lydia's  hand  in  the  friendliest  way.  "  Well, 
that  *s  natural.  And  you  're  excited  ;  that  'a  natu- 
ral, too.  But  we  're  not  going  to  have  any  home* 


THE   LAD1    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  11 

lickness  on  the  Aroostook,  because  we  're  going  to 
make  her  home  to  you."  At  this  speech  all  the 
girl's  gathering  f orlornness  broke  in  a  sob.  "  That 's 
right !  "  said  Captain  Jenness-  "  Bless  you,  I  Ve 
got  a  girl  just  about  your  age  up  at  Deer  Isle,  my- 
self 1  "  He  dropped  her  hand,  and  put  his  arm 
across  her  shoulders.  "  Good  land,  I  know  what 
girls  are,  I  hope !  These  your  things  ?  "  He  caught 
up  the  greater  part  of  them  into  his  capacious  hands, 
and  started  off  down  the  wharf,  talking  back  at 
Lydia  and  her  grandfather,  as  they  followed  him 
with  the  light  parcels  he  had  left  them.  "  I  hauled 
away  from  the  wharf  as  soon  as  I  'd  stowed  my 
cargo,  and  I  'm  at  anchor  out  there  in  the  stream 
now,  waiting  till  I  can  finish  up  a  few  matters  of 
business  with  the  agents  and  get  my  passengers  on 
board.  When  you  get  used  to  the  strangeness,"  he 
said  to  Lydia,  "  you  won't  be  a  bit  lonesome. 
Bless  your  heart !  My  wife  's  been  with  me  many  a 
voyage,  and  the  last  time  I  was  out  to  Messina  I 
had  both  my  daughters." 

At  the  end  of  the  wharf,  Captain  Jennesa 
stopped,  and  suddenly  calling  out,  "  Here !  "  began, 
as  she  thought,  to  hurl  Lydia's  things  into  the  water. 
But  when  she  reached  the  same  point,  she  found 
they  had  all  been  caught,  and  deposited  in  a  neat 
oile  in  a  boat  which  lay  below,  where  two  sailors 
stood  waiting  the  captain's  further  orders.  He 
keenly  measured  the  distance  to  the  boat  with  his 
eye,  and  then  he  bade  the  men  work  round  outside 
* 


18  THE  LADY    OF   THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

a  schooner  which  lay  near ;  and  jumping  on  board 
this  vessel,  he  helped  Lydia  and  her  grandfathei 
down,  and  easily  transferred  them  to  the  small  boat. 
The  men  bent  to  their  oars,  and  pulled  swiftly  out 
toward  a  ship  that  lay  at  anchor  a  little  way  off.  A 
light  breeze  crept  along  the  water,  which  was  here 
blue  and  clear,  and  the  grateful  coolness  and  pleas- 
ant motion  brought  light  into  the  girl's  cheeks  and 
eyes.  Without  knowing  it  she  smiled.  "  That  'a 
right  !  "  cried  Captain  Jenness,  who  had  applauded 
her  sob  in  the  same  terms.  "  You  'II  like  it,  first- 
rate.  Look  at  that  ship  !  That 's  the  Aroostook. 
Is  she  a  beauty,  or  ain't  she?  " 

The  stately  vessel  stood  high  from  the  water,  for 
Captain  Jenness's  cargo  was  light,  and  he  was  go- 
ing out  chiefly  for  a  return  freight.  Sharp  jibs  and 
staysails  cut  their  white  outlines  keenly  against  the 
afternoon  blue  of  the  summer  heaven  ;  the  topsails 
and  courses  dripped,  half-furled,  from  the  yards 
stretching  across  the  yellow  masts  that  sprang  so 
far  aloft ;  the  hull  glistened  black  with  new  paint. 
When  Lydia  mounted  to  the  deck  she  found  it  aa 
clean  scrubbed  as  her  aunt's  kitchen  floor.  Her 
glance  of  admiration  was  not  lost  upon  Captain 
Jenness.  "  Yes,  Miss  Blood,"  said  he,  "  one  differ- 
ence between  an  American  ship  and  any  other  son 
is  dirt.  I  wish  I  could  take  you  aboard  an  English 
vessel,  so  you  could  appreciate  the  Aroostook.  But 
I  guess  you  don't  need  it,"  he  added,  with  a  proud 
latisfaotion  in  his  laugh.  "  The  Aroostook  ain't  in 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  19 

arder  yet ;  wait  till  we  've  been  a  few  days  at  sea." 
The  captain  swept  the  deck  with  a  loving  eye.  It 
was  spacious  and  handsome,  with  a  stretch  of  some 
forty  or  fifty  feet  between  the  house  at  the  stern 
and  the  forecastle,  which  rose  considerably  higher ; 
a  low  bulwark  was  surmounted  by  a  heavy  rail  sup- 
ported upon  turned  posts  painted  white.  Every- 
thing, in  spite  of  the  captain's  boastful  detraction, 
was  in  perfect  trim,  at  least  to  landfolk's  eyes. 
"  Now  come  into  the  cabin,"  said  the  captain.  He 
gave  Lydia's  traps,  as  he  called  them,  in  charge  of 
a  boy,  while  he  led  the  way  below,  by  a  narrow 
stairway,  warning  Lydia  and  her  grandfather  to 
look  out  for  their  heads  as  they  followed.  "  There  I  " 
he  said,  when  they  had  safely  arrived,  inviting  their 
inspection  of  the  place  with  a  general  glance  of  hia 
own. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,  Lyddy  ?  "  asked  her  grand- 
father, with  simple  joy  in  the  splendors  about  them. 
"Solid  mahogany  trimmin's  everywhere."  There 
was  also  a  great  deal  of  milk-white  paint,  with 
§ome  modest  touches  of  gilding  here  and  there. 
The  cabin  was  pleasantly  lit  by  the  long  low  win- 
dows which  its  roof  rose  just  high  enough  to  lift 
above  the  deck,  and  the  fresh  air  entered  with  the 
Blanting  sun.  Made  fast  to  the  floor  was  a  heavy 
table,  over  which  hung  from  the  ceiling  a  swinging 
shelf.  Around  the  little  saloon  ran  lockers  eusr»- 
*one4  with  red  plush.  At  either  end  were  four  01 
Sve  narrow  doors,  which  gave  into  as  many  tiny 


20  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

itate-rooms.  The  boy  came  with  Lydia's  things, 
and  set  them  inside  one  of  these  doors ;  and  when 
he  came  out  again  the  captain  pushed  it  open,  and 
called  them  in.  "  Here  ! "  said  he.  "  Here 's  where 
my  girls  made  themselves  at  home  the  last  voyage, 
ind  I  expect  you  '11  find  it  pretty  comfortable. 
Fhey  say  you  don't  feel  the  motion  so  much,  —  / 
don't  know  anything  about  the  motion,  —  and  in 
smooth  weather  you  can  have  that  window  open 
sometimes,  and  change  the  air.  It 's  light  and  it  'a 
large.  Well,  I  had  it  fitted  up  for  my  wife ;  but 
she  's  got  kind  of  on  now,  you  know,  and  she  don't 
feel  much  like  going  any  more ;  and  so  I  always  give 
it  to  my  nicest  passenger."  This  was  an  unmistak- 
able compliment,  and  Lydia  blushed  to  the  captain's 
entire  content.  "That 's  a  rug  she  hooked,"  he  con- 
tinued, touching  with  his  toe  the  carpet,  rich  in  its 
artless  domestic  dyes  as  some  Persian  fabric,  that 
lay  before  the  berth.  "  These  gimcracks  belong  to 
my  girls ;  they  left  'em."  He  pointed  to  various 
slight  structures  of  card-board  worked  with  crewel, 
which  were  tacked  to  the  walls.  "  Pretty  snug, 
eh?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia,  "it 's  nicer  than  I  thought  it 
3ould  be,  even  after  what  grandfather  said." 

"  Well,  that 's  right !  "  exclaimed  the  captain. 
4 1  like  your  way  of  speaking  up.  I  wish  you  could 
tnow  my  girls.  How  old  are  you  now?  " 

"  I  'm  nineteen,"  said  Lydia. 

'*  Why,  you  Ye  just  between  my  girls  1 "  cried  th« 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  21 

captain ,  "  Sally  is  twenty-one,  and  Persia  is  eight- 
een. Well,  now,  Miss  Blood,"  lie  said,  as  they  re- 
turned to  the  cabin,  "  you  can't  begin  to  make  your- 
self at  home  too  soon  for  me.  I  used  to  sail  to 
Cadiz  and  Malaga  a  good  deal ;  and  when  I  went 
to  aee  any  of  them  Spaniards  he  'd  say,  '  This  house 
is  yours.'  Well,  that's  what  I  say:  This  ship  ig 
yours  as  long  as  you  stay  in  her.  And  I  mean  it, 
and  that 's  more  than  they  did ! "  Captain  Jenness 
laughed  mightily,  took  some  of  Lydia's  fingers  in 
his  left  hand  and  squeezed  them,  and  clapped  her 
grandfather  on  the  shoulder  with  his  right.  Then 
he  slipped  his  hand  down  the  old  man's  bony  arm 
to  the  elbow,  and  held  it,  while  he  dropped  his  head 
towards  Lydia,  and  said,  "  We  shall  be  glad  to 
have  him  stay  to  supper,  and  as  much  longer  as  he 
likes,  heh?" 

"  Oh,  no  I  "  said  Lydia ;  "  grandfather  must  go 
back  on  the  six  o'clock  train.  My  aunt  expects 
him."  Her  voice  fell,  and  her  face  suddenly 
clouded. 

"  Good !  "  cried  the  captain.  Then  he  pulled  out 
his  watch,  and  held  it  as  far  away  as  the  chain 
would  stretch,  frowning  at  it  with  his  head  aslant. 
"  Well !  "  he  burst  out.  "  He  has  n't  got  any  too 
much  time  on  his  hands."  The  old  man  gave  a 
nervous  start,  and  the  girl  trembled.  "  Hold  on ! 
Yes  ;  there  's  time.  It 's  only  fifteen  minutes  aftei 
ftve." 

"  Oh,  but  we  were  more  than  half  an  hour  get 


22  THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK. 

ting  down  here,"  said  Lydia,  anxiously.  "  And 
grandfather  does  n't  know  the  way  back.  He  '11  be 
sure  to  get  lost.  I  wish  we  'd  come  in  a  carriage.' 

"  Could  n't  V  kept  the  carriage  waitin'  on  ex- 
pense, Lyddy,"  retorted  her  grandfather.  "  But  1 
tell  you,"  he  added,  with  something  like  resolution, 
"if  I  could  find  a  carriage  anywheres  near  that 
wharf,  I'd  take  it,  just  as  sure!  I  wouldn't  misa 
that  train  for  more  'n  half  a  dollar.  It  would  cost 
more  than  that  at  a  hotel  to-night,  let  alone  how 
your  aunt  Maria  'd  feel." 

"  Why,  look  here !  "  said  Captain  Jenness,  natu- 
rally appealing  to  the  girl.  "  Let  me  get  your 
grandfather  back.  I  've  got  to  go  up  town  again, 
any  way,  for  some  last  things,  with  an  express 
wagon,  and  we  can  ride  right  to  the  depot  in  that. 
Which  depot  is  it  ?  " 

"  Fitchburg,"  said  the  old  man  eagerly. 

"  That 's  right !  "  commented  the  captain.  "  Get 
you  there  in  plenty  of  time,  if  we  don't  lose  any 
now.  And  I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  little  girl,"  he 
added,  turning  to  Lydia :  "  if  it  '11  be  a  comfort  to 
you  to  ride  up  with  us,  and  see  your  grandfather 
off,  why  come  along  I  My  girls  went  with  me  the 
last  time  on  an  express  wagon." 

"No,"  answered  Lydia.  "I  want  to.  But  it 
would  n't  be  any  comfort.  I  thought  that  out  be- 
fore I  left  home,  and  I  'm  going  to  say  good-by  to 
grandfather  here." 

"  First-rate !  "   said    Captain    Jenness,   bustling 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  28 

towards  the  gangway  so  as  to  leave  them  alone.  A 
•harp  cry  from  the  old  man  arrested  him. 

"  Lyddy  !     Where  's  your  trunks  ?  " 

"  Why !  "  said  the  girl,  catching  her  breath  in 
dismay,  "  where  can  they  be  ?  I  forgot  all  about 
them." 

"  I  got  the  checks  fast  enough,"  said  the  old  man. 
*  and  I  shan't  give  'em  up  without  I  get  the  trunks, 
Thsy  'd  ought  to  had  'em  down  here  long  ago ;  and 
now  if  I  've  got  to  pester  round  after  'em  I  'm  sure 
to  miss  the  train." 

"  What  shall  we  do?  "  asked  Lydia. 

"  Let 's  see  your  checks,"  said  the  captain,  with 
an  evident  ease  of  mind  that  reassured  her.  When 
her  grandfather  had  brought  them  with  difficulty 
from  the  pocket  visited  last  in  the  order  of  his 
search,  and  laid  them  in  the  captain's  waiting  palm, 
the  latter  endeavored  to  get  them  in  focus.  "  What 
does  it  say  on  'em?"  he  asked,  handing  them  to 
Lydia.  u  My  eyes  never  did  amount  to  anything 
on  shore."  She  read  aloud  the  name  of  the  express 
stamped  on  them.  The  captain  gathered  them 
back  into  his  hand,  and  slipped  them  into  his 
packet,  with  a  nod  and  wink  full  of  comfort.  "  I  '11 
see  to  it,"  he  said.  "  At  any  rate,  this  ship  ain't 
a-going  to  sail  without  them,  if  she  waits  a  week, 
Now,  then,  Mr.  Latham !  " 

The  old  man,  who  waited,  when  not  directly  ad- 
Iressed  or  concerned,  in  a  sort  of  blank  patience, 
suddenly  started  out  of  his  daze,  and  following  the 


24  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOR. 

captain  too  alertly  up  the  gangway  stairs  drove  hit 
hat  against  the  hatch  with  a  force  that  sent  him 
back  into  Lydia's  arms. 

"  Oh,  grandfather,  are  you  hurt  ?  "  she  piteoudy 
Mked,  trying  to  pull  up  the  hat  that  was  jammed 
down  over  his  forehead. 

**  Not  a  bit !  But  I  guess  my  hat 's  about  done 
for,  —  without  I  can  get  it  pressed  over ;  and  I 
d'  know  as  this  kind  of  straw  doos  press.*' 

44  First-rate  I  "  called  the  captain  from  above. 
"Never  mind  the  hat."  But  the  girl  continued 
fondly  trying  to  reshape  it,  while  the  old  man 
fidgeted  anxiously,  and  protested  that  he  would  be 
sure  to  be  left.  It  was  like  a  half -shut  accordion 
when  she  took  it  from  his  head  ;  when  she  put  it 
back  it  was  like  an  accordion  pulled  out. 

"  All  ready  I  "  shouted  Captain  Jenness  from  the 
gap  in  the  bulwark,  where  he  stood  waiting  to  de- 
scend into  the  small  boat.  The  old  man  ran  to- 
wards him  in  his  senile  haste,  and  stooped  to  get 
over  the  side  into  the  boat  below. 

"  Why,  grandfather  ! "  cried  the  girl  in  a  break- 
Lag  voice,  full  of  keen,  yet  tender  reproach. 

"  I  declare  for  't,"  he  said,  scrambling  back  to 
the  deck.  "  I  'most  forgot.  I  be'n  so  put  about." 
He  took  Lydia's  hand  loosely  into  his  own,  and 
bent  forward  to  kiss  her.  She  threw  her  arms 
round  him,  and  while  he  remained  looking  ove? 
her  shoulder,  with  a  face  of  grotesque  perplexity, 
ind  saying,  "  Don't  cry,  Lyddy,  don't  cry ! "  she 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AKOOSTOOK.  25 

pressed  her  face  tighter  into  his  withered  neck,  and 
tried  to  muffle  her  homesick  sobs.  The  sympathies 
as  well  as  the  sensibilities  often  seem  dulled  by  age. 
They  have  both  perhaps  been  wrought  upon  too 
much  in  the  course  of  the  years,  and  can  no  longer 
respond  to  the  appeal  or  distress  which  they  can 
only  dimly  realize  ;  even  the  heart  grows  old. 
w  Don't  you,  don't  you,  Lyddy !  "  repeated  the  old 
man.  "  You  must  n't.  The  captain 's  waitin' ; 
and  the  cars  —  well,  every  minute  I  lose  makes  it 
riskier  and  riskier  ;  and  your  aunt  Maria,  she 's  al- 
ways so  uneasy,  you  know !  " 

The  girl  was  not  hurt  by  his  anxiety  about  hiro- 
Belf ;  she  was  more  anxious  about  him  than  about 
anything  else.  She  quickly  lifted  her  head,  and 
drying  her  eyes,  kissed  him,  forcing  her  lips  into 
the  smile  that  is  more  heart-breaking  to  see  than 
weeping.  She  looked  over  the  side,  as  her  grand- 
father was  handed  carefully  down  to  a  seat  by  the 
two  sailors  in  the  boat,  and  the  captain  noted 
her  resolute  counterfeit  of  cheerfulness.  "  That 's 
right !  "  he  shouted  up  to  her.  "  Just  like  my  girls 
when  their  mother  left  'em.  But  bless  you,  they 
koon  got  over  it,  and  so  '11  you.  Give  way,  men," 
he  said,  in  a  lower  voice,  and  the  boat  shot  from 
the  ship's  side  toward  the  wharf.  He  turned  and 
vaved  his  handkerchief  to  Lydia,  and,  stimulated 
apparently  by  this,  her  grandfather  felt  in  his  pock- 
tts  for  his  handkerchief  ;  he  ended  after  a  vain 
tearch  by  taking  off  his  hat  and  waving  that 


26  THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROQSTOOK. 

When  he  put  it  on  again,  it  relapsed  into  that  like- 
ness of  a  half -shut  accordion  from  which  Lydia  had 
rescued  it ;  but  she  only  saw  the  face  under  it. 

As  the  boat  reached  the  wharf  an  express  wagon 
drove  down,  and  Lydia  saw  the  sarcastic  parley 
which  she  could  not  hear  between  the  captain  and 
the  driver  about  the  belated  baggage  which  the 
latter  put  off.  Then  she  saw  the  captain  help  hei 
grandfather  to  the  seat  between  himself  ar>d  the 
driver,  and  the  wagon  rattled  swiftly  out  of  »•  ^ht. 
One  of  the  sailors  lifted  Lydia's  baggage  orv  the 
side  of  the  wharf  to  the  other  in  the  boat,  ai**  vfcey 
pulled  off  to  the  ship  with  it. 


Ill 

LIMA  went  back  to  the  cabin,  and  presently  tin 
boy  who  had  taken  charge  of  her  lighter  luggage 
came  dragging  her  trunk  and  bag  down  the  gang- 
way stairs.  Neither  was  very  large,  and  even  a 
boy  of  fourteen  who  was  small  for  his  age  might 
easily  manage  them. 

"  You  can  stow  away  what 's  in  'em  in  the  draw- 
ers," said  the  boy.  "I  suppose  you  did  n't  notice 
the  drawers,"  he  added,  at  her  look  of  inquiry.  He 
went  into  her  room,  and  pushing  aside  the  valance 
of  the  lower  berth  showed  four  deep  drawers  below 
the  bed  ;  the  charming  snugness  of  the  arrange- 
ment brought  a  light  of  housewifely  joy  to  the  girl'a 
face. 

"  Why,  it 's  as  good  as  a  bureau.  They  will  hold 
everything." 

"  Yes,"  exulted  the  boy  ;  "  they  're  for  two  per- 
sons' things.  The  captain's  daughters,  they  both 
had  this  room.  Pretty  good  sized  too ;  a  good  deal 
the  captain's  build.  You  won't  find  a  better  state- 
room than  this  on  a  steamer.  I  've  been  on  'em." 
The  boy  climbed  up  on  the  edge  of  the  upper 
drawer,  and  pulled  open  the  window  at  the  top  of 
the  wall.  "  Give  you  a  little  air,  I  guess.  If  you 
*rant  I  should,  the  oaptain  said  I  was  to  bear  a 


28  THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

hand  helping  you  to  stow  away  what  was  in  ycui 
trunks." 

"  No,"  said  Lydia,  quickly.  "  I  d  just  aa  soon 
do  it  alone." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  boy.  "  If  I  was  you,  I  'd 
do  it  now.  I  don't  know  just  when  the  captain 
means  to  sail ;  but  after  we  get  outside,  it  might 
be  rough,  and  it 's  better  to  have  everything  pretty 
snug  by  that  time.  I  '11  haul  away  the  trunks 
when  you  Ve  got  'em  empty.  If  I  should  n't  hap- 
pen to  be  here,  you  can  just  call  me  at  the  top  of 
the  gangway,  and  I  '11  come.  My  name 's  Thomas," 
he  said.  He  regarded  Lydia  inquiringly  a  moment 
before  he  added  :  "If  you  'd  just  as  lives,  I  rathe* 
you  'd  call  me  Thomas,  and  not  steward.  They 
said  you  'd  call  me  steward,"  he  explained,  in  A 
blushing,  deprecating  confidence  ;  "  and  as  long  a» 
I  've  not  got  my  growth,  it  kind  of  makes  them 
laugh,  you  know,  —  especially  the  second  officer." 

"  I  will  call  you  Thomas,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Thank  you."  The  boy  glanced  up  at  the 
round  clock  screwed  to  the  cabin  wall.  "I  gues* 
you  won't  have  to  call  me  anything  unless  you 
hurry.  I  shall  be  down  here,  laying  the  table  for 
supper,  before  you  're  done.  The  captain  said  I 
was  to  lay  it  for  you  and  him,  and  if  he  did  n't  get 
back  in  time  you  was  to  go  to  eating,  any  way. 
GS-uess  you  won't  think  Captain  Jenness  is  going 
k>  starve  anybody." 

"  Have  you  been  many  voyages  with   Captaia 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  29 

Jenness  before  this  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  as  she  set  open 
her  trunk,  and  began  to  lay  her  dresses  out  on  the 
locker.  Homesickness,  like  all  grief,  attacks  in 
paroxysms.  One  gust  of  passionate  regret  had 
swept  over  the  girl ;  before  another  came,  she  could 
occupy  herself  almost  cheerfully  with  the  details  of 
unpacking. 

"Only  one  before,"  said  the  boy.  "The  last 
one,  when  his  daughters  went  out.  I  guess  it  was 
their  coaxing  got  mother  to  let  me  go.  My  father 
was  killed  in  the  war." 

"  Was  he  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  sympathetically. 

"  Yes.  I  did  n't  know  much  about  it  at  the 
time ;  so  little.  Both  your  parents  living  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lydia.  "  They're  both  dead.  They 
died  a  long  while  ago.  I  've  always  lived  with  my 
aunt  and  grandfather." 

"  I  thought  there  must  be  something  the  matter, 
—  your  coming  with  your  grandfather,"  said  the 
boy.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  don't  let  me  carry  in 
w>me  of  those  dresses  for  you.  I  'm  used  to  help- 
jig  about." 

"  Well,  you  may,"  answered  Lydia,  "  if  you 
want."  A  native  tranquil  kindness  showed  itself 
ji  her  voice  and  manner,  but  something  of  the  ha- 
bitual authority  of  a  school-mistress  mingled  with 
it.  "  You  must  be  careful  not  to  rumple  them  if  I 
'et  you." 

"I  guess  not.  I've  got  older  sisters  at  home, 
They  hated  to  have  me  leave.  But  I  looked  at  it 


30  THE   LADY    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

this  way  :  If  I  was  ever  going  to  sea  —  and  I  wa\ 
—  I  could  n't  get  such  another  captain  as  Cap* 
bain  Jenness,  nor  such  another  crew ;  all  the  men 
from  down  our  way  ;  and  I  don't  mind  the  second 
mate's  jokes  much.  He  don't  mean  anything  bj 
diem  ;  likes  to  plague,  that 's  all.  He  's  a  first-rate 
jailor." 

Lydia  was  kneeling  before  one  of  the  trunks,  and 
the  boy  was  stooping  over  it,  with  a  hand  on  either 
knee.  She  had  drawn  out  her  only  black  silk  dress, 
and  was  finding  it  rather  crumpled.  "  I  should  n't 
have  thought  it  would  have  got  so  much  jammed, 
coming  fifty  miles,"  she  soliloquized.  "  But  they 
seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  seeing  how  much  they 
could  bang  the  trunks."  She  rose  to  her  feet  and 
shook  out  the  dress,  and  drew  the  skirt  several  times 
over  her  left  arm. 

The  boy's  eyes  glistened.  "  Goodness  I "  he  said. 
"  Just  new,  ain't  it  ?  Going  to  wear  it  any  on 
board?" 

"  Sundays,  perhaps,"  answered  Lydia  thought- 
fully, still  smoothing  and  shaping  the  dress,  which 
she  regarded  at  arm's-length,  from  time  to  time, 
with  her  head  aslant. 

"  I  suppose  it 's  the  latest  style  ?  "  pursued  the 
boy. 

"  Yes,  it  is, '  said  Lydia.  "  We  sent  to  Boston 
for  the  pattern.  I  hate  to  pack  it  into  one  of  those 
drawers,"  she  mused. 

"You  needn't,"  replied  Thomas.  "There's  a 
whole  row  of  hooks." 


THE   LADY    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  31 

44 1  want  to  know ! "  cried  Lydia.  She  followed 
Thomas  into  her  state-room.  "  Well,  well  I  They 
do  seem  to  have  thought  of  everything !  " 

44 1  should  say  so,"  exulted  the  boy.  "  Look 
here  !  "  He  showed  her  a  little  niche  near  the  head 
of  the  berth  strongly  framed  with  glass,  in  which  a 
lamp  was  made  fast.  44  Light  up,  you  know,  when 
you  want  to  read,  or  feel  kind  of  lonesome."  Lydia 
clasped  her  hands  in  pleasure  and  amaze.  "  Oh,  1 
tell  you  Captain  Jenness  meant  to  have  things  about 
right.  The  other  state-rooms  don't  begin  to  come 
up  to  this."  He  dashed  out  in  his  zeal,  and  opened 
their  doors,  that  she  might  triumph  in  the  superi- 
ority of  her  accommodations  without  delay.  These 
rooms  were  cramped  together  on  one  side  ;  Lydia's 
was  in  a  comparatively  ample  corner  by  itself. 

She  went  on  unpacking  her  trunk,  and  the  boy 
again  took  his  place  near  her,  in  the  same  attitude 
as  before.  44 1  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  like  to 
see  you  with  that  silk  on.  Have  you  got  any  other 
nice  ones?" 

'4No;  only  this  I'm  wearing,"  answered  Lydia, 
half  amused  and  half  honest  in  her  sympathy  with 
his  ardor  about  her  finery.  "  They  said  not  to  bring 
many  clothes  ;  they  would  be  cheaper  over  there." 
She  had  now  reached  the  bottom  of  her  trunk.  She 
Uiew  by  the  clock  that  her  grandfather  could  hardly 
aave  left  the  city  on  his  journey  home,  but  the  in- 
terval of  time  since  she  had  parted  with  him  seemed 
ra«t.  It  was  as  if  she  had  started  to  Boston  in  a 


82  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

former  life ;  the  history  of  the  choosing  and  cutting 
and  making  of  these  clothes  was  like  a  dream  of 
preexistence.  She  had  never  had  so  many  things 
new  at  once,  and  it  had  been  a  great  outlay ,  but 
her  aunt  Maria  had  made  the  money  go  as  far  aa 
possible,  and  had  spent  it  with  that  native  taste,  that 
genius  for  dress,  which  sometimes  strikes  the  summer 
boarder  in  the  sempstresses  of  the  New  England  hills. 
Miss  Latham's  gift  was  quaintly  unrelated  to  her- 
self. In  dress,  as  in  person  and  manner,  she  was 
uncompromisingly  plain  and  stiff.  All  the  more 
lavishly,  therefore,  had  it  been  devoted  to  the  grace 
and  beauty  of  her  sister's  child,  who,  ever  since  she 
came  to  find  a  home  in  her  grandfather's  house,  had 
been  more  stylishly  dressed  than  any  other  girl  in 
the  village.  The  summer  boarders,  whom  the  keen 
eye  of  Miss  Latham  studied  with  unerring  sense  of 
the  best  new  effects  in  costume,  wondered  at  Lydia'a 
elegance,  as  she  sat  beside  her  aunt  in  the  family 
pew,  a  triumph  of  that  grim  artist's  skill.  Lydia 
knew  that  she  was  well  dressed,  but  she  knew  that 
after  all  she  was  only  the  expression  of  her  aunt's  in- 
spirations. Her  own  gift  was  of  another  sort.  Her 
father  was  a  music-teacher,  whose  failing  health  had 
obliged  him  to  give  up  his  profession,  and  who  had 
taken  the  traveling  agency  of  a  parlor  organ  manu- 
factory for  the  sake  of  the  out-door  life.  His  busi- 
ness had  brought  him  to  South  Bradfield,  where  he 
•old  an  organ  to  Deacon  Latham's  church,  and  fell 
In  iove  with  his  younger  daughter.  He  died  a  few 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  33 

years  after  his  marriage,  of  an  ancestral  consumption, 
his  sole  heritage  from  the  good  New  England  stock  of 
which  he  came.  His  skill  as  a  pianist,  which  was  con- 
siderable, had  not  descended  to  his  daughter,  but 
her  mother  had  bequeathed  her  a  peculiarly  rich  and 
flexible  voice,  with  a  joy  in  singing  which  was  at 
yet  a  passion  little  affected  by  culture.  It  was  this 
voice  which,  when  Lydia  rose  to  join  in  the  terrible 
hymning  of  the  congregation  at  South  Bradfield,  took 
the  thoughts  of  people  off  her  style  and  beauty ;  and 
it  was  this  which  enchanted  her  father's  sister  when, 
the  summer  before  the  date  of  which  we  write,  that 
lady  had  come  to  America  on  a  brief  visit,  and  heard 
Lydia  sing  at  her  parlor  organ  in  the  old  homestead. 
Mrs.  Erwin  had  lived  many  years  abroad,  chiefly  in 
Italy,  for  the  sake  of  the  climate.  She  was  of  deli- 
cate health,  and  constantly  threatened  by  the  he- 
reditary disease  that  had  left  her  the  last  of  her  gen- 
eration, and  she  had  the  fastidiousness  of  an  invalid. 
She  was  full  of  generous  impulses  which  she  mistook 
for  virtues;  but  the  presence  of  some  object  at  once 
charming  and  worthy  was  necessary  to  rouse  these 
impulses.  She  had  been  prosperously  married  when 
very  young,  and  as  a  pretty  American  widow  she 
had  wedded  in  second  marriage  at  Naples  one  of  those 
Englishmen  who  have  money  enough  to  live  at  ease 
in  Latin  countries  •  he  was  very  fond  of  her,  and 
petted  her.  Having  no  children  she  might  long  be- 
fore have  thought  definitely  of  poor  Henry's  little 
as  she  called  Lydia  but  she  had  lived  very 
a 


84  THE  LADY   OF   1wE  AROOSTOOK. 

comfortably  indefinite  in  regard  to  her  ever  since 
the  father's  death.  Now  and  then  she  hud  sent  the 
child  a  handsome  present  or  a  sum  of  money.  She 
had  it  on  her  conscience  not  to  let  her  be  wholly  a 
burden  to  her  grandfather ;  but  often  her  conscience 
drowsed.  When  she  came  to  South  Bradfield,  she 
won  the  hearts  of  the  simple  family,  which  had 
been  rather  hardened  against  her,  and  she  professed 
an  enthusiasm  for  Lydia.  She  called  her  pretty 
names  in  Italian,  which  she  did  not  pronounce 
well ;  she  babbled  a  great  deal  about  what  ought 
to  be  done  for  her,  and  went  away  without  doing 
anything;  so  that  when  a  letter  finally  came,  di- 
recting Lydia  to  be  sent  out  to  her  in  Venice,  they 
were  all  surprised,  in  the  disappointment  to  which 
they  had  resigned  themselves. 

Mrs.  Erwin  wrote  an  epistolary  style  exasperat- 
ingly  vacuous  and  diffuse,  and,  like  many  women  of 
that  sort,  she  used  pencil  instead  of  ink,  always 
apologizing  for  it  as  due  now  to  her  weak  eyes,  and 
now  to  her  weak  wrist,  and  again  to  her  not  being 
able  to  find  the  ink.  Her  hand  was  full  of  foolish 
curves  and  dashes,  and  there  were  no  spaces  be- 
tween the  words  at  times.  Under  these  conditions 
it  was  no  light  labor  to  get  at  her  meaning ;  but 
the  sum  of  her  letter  was  that  she  wished  Lydia  to 
eomo  out  to  her  at  once,  and  she  suggested  that,  as 
ihey  could  have  few  opportunities  or  none  to  send 
ier  with  people  going  to  Europe,  they  had  better 
ct  hot  come  the  whole  way  by  sea.  Mrs.  Erwis 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  35 

remembered  —  in  the  space  of  a  page  and  a  half  — 
that  nothing  had  ever  done  her  so  much  good  as  a 
long  sea  voyage,  and  it  would  be  excellent  foi 
Lydia,  who,  though  she  looked  so  strong,  probably 
needed  all  the  bracing  up  she  could  get.  She  had 
made  inquiries,  —  or,  what  was  the  same  thing,  Mr. 
Erwin  had,  for  her,  —  and  she  found  that  vessels 
from  American  ports  seldom  came  to  Venice  ;  but 
they  often  came  to  Trieste,  which  was  only  a  few 
nours  away  ;  and  if  Mr.  Latham  would  get  Lydia 
a  ship  for  Trieste  at  Boston,  she  could  come  very 
safely  and  comfortably  in  a  few  weeks.  She  gave 
the  name  of  a  Boston  house  engaged  in  the  Medi- 
terranean trade  to  which  Mr.  Latham  could  apply 
for  passage ;  if  they  were  not  sending  any  ship 
themselves,  they  could  probably  recommend  one  to 
him. 

This  was  what  happened  when  Deacon  Latham 
called  at  their  office  a  few  days  after  Mrs.  Erwin's 
letter  came.  They  directed  him  to  the  firm  dis- 
patching the  Aroostook,  and  Captain  Jen  ness  waa 
at  their  place  when  the  deacon  appeared  there. 
The  captain  took  cordial  possession  of  the  old  man 
at  once,  and  carried  him  down  to  the  wharf  to  look 
at  the  ship  and  her  accommodations.  The  matter 
was  quickly  settled  between  them.  At  that  time 
Captain  Jenness  did  not  know  but  he  might  have 
>ther  passengers  out;  at  any  rate,  he  would  look 
*f ter  the  little  girl  (as  Deacon  Latham  always  said 
in  speaking  of  Lydia)  the  same  as  if  she  were  hii 
»wn  child. 


56  THE    LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Lydia  knelt  before  her  trunk,  thinking  of  the  re 
mote  events,  the  extinct  associations  of  a  few  min 
ntes  and  hours  and  days  ago ;  she  held  some  cuffi 
and  collars  in  her  hand,  and  something  that  hei 
aunt  Maria  had  said  recurred  to  her.  She  looked 
up  into  the  intensely  interested  face  of  the  boy, 
and  then  laughed,  bowing  her  forehead  on  the  back 
of  the  hand  that  held  these  bits  of  linen. 

The  boy  blushed.  "What  are  you  laughing 
at  ? "  he  asked,  half  piteously,  half  indignantly, 
like  a  boy  used  to  being  badgered. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Lydia.  "  My  aunt  told  ma 
if  any  of  these  things  should  happen  to  want  doing 
up,  I  had  better  get  the  stewardess  to  help  me." 
She  looked  at  the  boy  in  a  dreadfully  teasing  way, 
softly  biting  her  lip. 

"  Oh,  if  you  're  going  to  begin  that  way  1  "  he 
cried  in  affliction. 

"  I  'm  not,"  she  answered,  promptly.  "  I  like 
boys.  I  've  taught  school  two  winters,  and  I  like 
boys  first-rate." 

Thomas  was  impersonally  interested  again. 
*  Time  I  You  taught  school  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  look  pretty  young  for  a  school-teacher  I  " 

44  Now  you  're  making  fun  of  me"  said  Lydia, 
astutely. 

The  boy  thought  he  must  have  been,  and  wai 
xrasoled.  "  Well,  you  began  it,"  he  said. 

44 1  ought  n't  to  have  done  so,"  she  replied  with 


THE   LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  87 

humility  ;  "  and  I  won't  any  more.  There !  '*  she 
said,  "  I  'm  not  going  to  open  my  bag  now.  Yon 
can  take  away  the  trunk  when  you  want,  Thomas." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  boy.  The  idea  of  a 
school-mistress  was  perhaps  beginning  to  awe  him 
a  little.  "  Put  your  bag  in  your  state-room  first.' 
He  did  this,  and  when  he  came  back  from  carrying 
away  her  trunk  he  began  to  set  the  table.  It  was 
a  pretty  table,  when  set,  and  made  the  little  cabin 
much  cosier.  When  the  boy  brought  the  dishes 
from  the  cook's  galley,  it  was  a  barbarously  abun- 
dant table.  There  was  cold  boiled  ham,  ham  and 
eggs,  fried  fish,  baked  potatoes,  buttered  toast,  tea, 
cake,  pickles,  and  watermelon  ;  nothing  was  want- 
ing. "  I  tell  you,"  said  Thomas,  noticing  Lydia'a 
admiration,  "  the  captain  lives  well  lay-days." 

"  Lay-days  ?  "  echoed  Lydia. 

"  The  days  we  're  in  port,"  the  boy  explained. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  as  much  !  "  She  ate  with 
the  hunger  that  tranquillity  bestows  upon  youth 
after  the  swift  succession  of  strange  events,  and  the 
conflict  of  many  emotions.  The  captain  had  not 
returned  in  time,  and  she  ate  alone. 

After  a  while  she  ventured  to  the  top  of  the 
gangway  stairs,  and  stood  there,  looking  at  the 
novel  sights  of  the  harbor,  in  the  red  sunset  light, 
which  rose  slowly  from  the  hulls  and  lower  spars  of 
me  shipping,  and  kindled  the  tips  of  the  high- 
•hooting  masts  with  a  quickly  fading  splendor.  A 
ielicate  flush  responded  in  the  east,  and  rose  to 


<*8  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

meet  the  denser  crimson  of  the  west ;  a  few  cloudy 
incomparably  light  and  diaphanous,  bathed  them- 
selves in  the  glow.  It  was  a  summer  sunset,  por  • 
tending  for  the  land  a  morrow  of  great  heat.  But 
cool  airs  crept  along  the  water,  and  the  ferry-boats, 
thrust  shuttlewise  back  and  forth  between  either 
ihore,  made  a  refreshing  sound  as  they  crushed  a 
broad  course  to  foam  with  their  paddles.  People 
were  pulling  about  in  small  boats  ;  from  some  the 
gay  cries  and  laughter  of  young  girls  struck  sharply 
along  the  tide.  The  noise  of  the  quiescent  city 
came  off  in  a  sort  of  dull  moan  The  lamps  be- 
gan to  twinkle  in  the  windows  and  the  streets  on 
shore ;  the  lanterns  of  the  ships  at  anchor  in  the 
stream  showed  redder  and  redder  as  the  twilight 
fell.  The  homesickness  began  to  mount  from 
Lydia's  heart  in  a  choking  lump  to  her  throat; 
for  one  must  be  very  happy  to  endure  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  tfcc  summer  evening  anywhere.  She 
had  to  shield  he.  eyes  from  the  brilliancy  of  the 
kerosene  when  she  went  below  into  the  cabin. 


IV 

LYDIA  did  not  know  when  the  captain  came  OJG 
board.  Once,  talking  in  the  cabin  made  itself  felt 
Lh  rough  her  dreams,  but  the  dense  sleep  of  wearj 
youth  closed  over  her  again,  and  she  did  not  fairly 
wake  till  morning.  Then  she  thought  she  heard 
the  crowing  of  a  cock  and  the  cackle  of  hens,  and 
fancied  herself  in  her  room  at  home  ;  the  illusion 
passed  with  a  pang.  The  ship  was  moving,  with  & 
tug  at  her  side,  the  violent  respirations  of  which 
were  mingled  with  the  sound  of  the  swift  rusii  of 
the  vessels  through  the  water,  the  noise  of  feet  on 
ihe  deck,  and  of  orders  hoarsely  shouted. 

The  girl  came  out  into  the  cabin,  where  Thomas 
was  already  busy  with  the  breakfast  table,  and 
climbed  to  the  deck.  It  was  four  o'clock  of  the 
summer's  morning  ;  the  sun  had  not  yet  reddened 
the  east,  but  the  stars  were  extinct,  or  glimmered 
faint  points  immeasurably  withdrawn  in  the  vast 
gray  of  the  sky.  At  that  hour  there  is  a  hovering 
dimness  over  all,  but  the  light  on  things  near  at 
hand  is  wonderfully  keen  and  clear,  and  the  air  has 
an  intense  yet  delicate  freshness  that  seems  to 
breathe  from  the  remotest  spaces  of  the  universe, 
—  a  waft  from  distances  beyond  the  sun.  On  the 
land  the  leaves  and  grass  are  soaked  with  dew 


40  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

the  densely  interwoven  songs  of  the  birds  are  like  a 
fabric  that  you  might  see  and  touch.  But  here, 
save  for  the  immediate  noises  on  the  ship,  which 
had  already  left  her  anchorage  far  behind,  thf 
shouting  of  the  tug's  escape-pipes,  and  the  huge, 
swirling  gushes  from  her  powerful  wheel,  a  sort  of 
spectacular  silence  prevailed,  and  the  sounds  were 
like  a  part  of  this  silence.  Here  and  there  a  small 
fishing  schooner  came  lagging  slowly  in,  as  if  be- 
lated, with  scarce  wind  enough  to  fill  her  sails 
now  and  then  they  met  a  steamboat,  towering 
white  and  high,  a  many-latticed  bulk,  with  no  one 
to  be  seen  on  board  but  the  pilot  at  his  wheel, 
and  a  few  sleepy  passengers  on  the  forward  prom- 
enade. The  city,  so  beautiful  and  stately  from 
the  bay,  was  dropping,  and  sinking  away  behind. 
They  passed  green  islands,  some  of  which  were 
fortified :  the  black  guns  looked  out  over  the  neatly 
shaven  glacis  ;  the  sentinel  paced  the  rampart. 

"  Well,  well  I  "  shouted  Captain  Jenness,  catch- 
ing sight  of  Lydia  where  she  lingered  at  the  cabin 
door.  "  You  are  an  early  bird.  Glad  to  see  you 
up !  Hope  you  rested  well  !  Saw  your  grand 
father  off  all  right,  and  kept  him  from  taking  the 
wrong  train  with  my  own  hand.  He  's  terribly  ex- 
citable. Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  just  so,  at  his 
age.  Here  I  "  The  captain  caught  up  a  stool  and 
let  it  near  the  bulwark  for  her.  "  There  I  Yov 
make  yourself  comfortable  wherever  you  like, 
f  on  're  at  home,  you  know."  He  was  off  again  b 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  41 

*  moment.  Lydia  cast  her  eye  over  at  the  tug. 
On  the  deck,  near  the  pilot-house,  stood  the  young 
man  who  had  stopped  the  afternoon  before,  while 
she  sat  at  the  warehouse  door,  and  asked  her  grand- 
father if  she  were  not  ill.  At  his  feet  was  a  sub 
Btantial  valise,  and  over  his  arm  hung  a  shawl.  He 
was  smoking,  and  seated  near  him,  on  another 
valise,  was  his  companion  of  the  day  before,  also 
smoking.  In  the  instant  that  Lydia  caught  sight 
of  them,  she  perceived  that  they  both  recognized 
her  and  exchanged,  as  it  were,  a  start  of  surprise. 
But  they  remained  as  before,  except  that  he  who 
was  seated  drew  out  a  fresh  cigarette,  and  without 
looking  up  reached  to  the  other  for  a  light.  They 
were  both  men  of  good  height,  and  they  looked 
fresh  and  strong,  with  something  very  alert  in  their 
slight  movements,  —  sudden  turns  of  the  head  and 
brisk  nods,  which  were  not  nervously  quick.  Lydia 
wondered  at  their  presence  there  in  an  ignorance 
which  could  not  even  conjecture.  She  knew  too 
little  to  know  that  they  could  not  have  any  desti- 
nation on  the  tug,  and  that  they  would  not  be  mak- 
ing a  pleasure-excursion  at  that  hour  in  the  morn- 
Ing.  Their  having  their  valises  with  them  deepened 
the  mystery,  which  was  not  solved  till  the  tug's 
engines  fell  silent,  and  at  an  unnoticed  order  a 
kpace  in  the  bulwark  not  far  from  Lydia  was 
opened  and  steps  were  let  down  the  side  of  the 
inip.  Then  the  young  men,  who  had  remained,  tc 
ill  appearance  perfectly  unconcerned,  caught  up 


THE   LADT   OP   THE  AROOSTOOR. 

their  valises  and  climbed  to  the  deck  of  the  Aroo* 
took.  They  did  not  give  her  more  than  a  glance 
out  of  the  corners  of  theii  eyes,  but  the  surprise  o( 
their  coming  on  board  was  so  great  a  shock  that 
she  did  not  observe  that  the  tug,  casting  loose  fr  jm 
the  ship,  was  describing  a  curt  and  foamy  semi- 
circle for  her  return  to  the  city,  and  that  the 
Aroostook,  with  a  cloud  of  snowy  canvas  filling 
overhead,  was  moving  over  the  level  sea  with  the 
light  ease  of  a  bird  that  half  swims,  half  flies,  along 
the  water.  A  sudden  dismay,  which  was  somehow 
not  fear  so  much  as  an  overpowering  sense  of  isola- 
tion, fell  upon  the  girl.  She  caught  at  Thomas, 
going  forward  with  some  dishes  in  his  hand,  with  a 
pathetic  appeal. 

44  Where  are  you  going,  Thomas  ?  " 

44  I  'm  going  to  the  cook's  galley  to  help  dish  up 
the  breakfast." 

"  T/hat  's  the  cook's  galley  ?  " 

44 1'on't  you  know  ?     The  kitchen." 

44  Let  me  go  with  you.  I  should  like  to  see  the 
fcitchen."  She  trembled  with  eagerness.  Arrived 
at  the  door  of  the  narrow  passage  that  ran  across 
the  deck  aft  of  the  forecastle,  she  looked  in  and 
saw,  amid  a  haze  of  frying  and  broiling,  the  short, 
stocky  figure  of  a  negro,  bow-legged,  and  unnatu- 
rally erect  from  the  waist  up.  At  sight  of  Lydia. 
he  made  a  respectful  duck  forward  with  his  un 
eouth  body.  "  Why,  are  you  the  cook  ?  "  she  al 
tuoat  screamed  in  response  to  this  obeisance. 


THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  43 

"  Yes,  miss, "  said  the  man,  humbly,  -with  a  turn 
>f  the  pleading  black  eyes  of  the  negro. 

Lydia  grew  more  peremptory :  "  Why  —  why  — 
I  thought  the  cook  was  a  woman ! " 

"  Very  sorry,  miss,"  began  the  negro,  with  a 
deprecatory  smile,  in  a  slow,  mild  voice. 

Thomas  burst  into  a  boy's  yelling  laugh  ?  "  Well, 
if  that  ain't  the  best  joke  on  Gabriel !  He  '11  never 
hear  the  last  of  it  when  I  tell  it  to  the  second 
officer !  " 

"Thomas!"  cried  Lydia,  terribly,  "you  shall 
not!"  She  stamped  her  foot.  "Do  you  hear 
me  ?  " 

The  boy  checked  his  laugh  abruptly.  "  Yes, 
ma'am,"  he  said  submissively. 

"Well,  then!"  returned  Lydia.  She  stalked 
proudly  back  to  the  cabin  gangway,  and  descending 
ihut  herself  into  her  state-room 


A  FEW  hours  later  Deacon  Latham  came  into  tin 
house  with  a  milk-pan  full  of  pease.  He  set  this 
down  on  one  end  of  the  kitchen  table,  with  his  straw 
hat  beside  it,  and  then  took  a  chair  at  the  other  end 
and  fell  into  the  attitude  of  the  day  before,  when  he 
sat  in  the  parlor  with  Lydia  and  Miss  Maria  waiting 
for  the  stage ;  his  mouth  was  puckered  to  a  whistle, 
and  his  fingers  were  held  above  the  board  in  act  to 
drub  it.  Miss  Maria  turned  the  pease  out  on  the 
table,  and  took  the  pan  into  her  lap.  She  shelled  at 
the  pease  in  silence,  till  the  sound  of  their  pelting, 
as  they  were  dropped  on  the  tin,  was  lost  in  their 
multitude ;  then  she  said,  with  a  sharp,  querulous, 
pathetic  impatience,  "  Well,  father,  I  suppose 
you  're  thinkin'  about  Lyddy." 

"  Yes,  Maria,  I  be,"  returned  her  father,  with 
uncommon  plumpness,  as  if  here  now  were  some- 
thing he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  stand  to.  "  I 
been  thinkin'  that  Lyddy 's  a  woman  grown,  as 
you  may  say." 

44  Yes,"  admitted  Miss  Maria,  "  she 's  a  woman, 
\s  far  forth  as  that  goes.  What  put  it  into  your 
head?" 

"  Well,  I  d'  know  as  I  know.  But  it 's  just  like 
this :  I  got  to  thinkin'  whether  she  might  n't  get 


THE  LADY   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  45 

to  feelin'  rather  lonely  on  the  voyage,  without  anj 
other  woman  to  talk  to.'* 

"  I  guess,"  said  Miss  Maria,  tranquilly,  "  she  'F 
goin'  to  feel  lonely  enough  at  times,  any  way,  poor 
thing !  But  I  told  her  if  she  wanted  advice  or  help 
about  anything  just  to  go  to  the  stewardess.  That 
Mrs.  Bland  that  spent  the  summer  at  the  Parkers' 
last  year  was  always  tellin'  how  they  went  to  the 
stewardess  for  most  everything,  and  she?  give  he? 
five  dollars  in  gold  when  they  got  into  Boston.  I 
should  n't  want  Lyddy  should  give  so  much  as  that, 
but  I  should  want  she  should  give  something,  aa 
long  's  it  'a  the  custom." 

"  They  don't  have  'em  on  sailin'  vessels,  Captain 
Jenness  said;  they  only  have  'em  on  steamera," 
said  Deacon  Latham. 

"Have  wLat?"  asked  Miss  Maria,  sharply. 

"  Stewardesses.     They  've  got  a  cabin-boy." 

Miss  Maria  desisted  a  moment  from  her  work ; 
fchen  she  answered,  with  a  gruff  shortness  peculiar 
to  her,  "  Well,  then,  she  can  go  to  the  cook,  I  sup- 
pose. It  would  n't  matter  which  she  went  to,  I 
presume." 

Deacon  Latham  looked  up  with  the  air  of  confess- 
ing to  sin  before  the  whole  congregation.  "  The 
cook  's  a  man,  —  a  black  man,"  he  said. 

Miss  Maria  dropped  a  handful  of  pods  into  the 
£an,  and  sent  a  handful  of  peas  rattling  across  the 
Able  on  to  the  floor.  "  Well,  who  in  Time"  — 
;he  expression  was  strong,  but  she  used  it  without 


46  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

hesitation,  and  was  never   known  to   repent  It 
"  will  she  go  to,  then  ?  " 

"  I  declare  for  *t,"  said  her  father,  "  I  don't 
know.  I  d'  know  as  I  ever  thought  it  out  fairlj 
before  ;  but  just  now  when  I  was  pickin*  the  peag€ 
for  you,  my  mind  got  to  dwellin'  on  Lyddy,  and 
then  it  come  to  me  all  at  once  :  there  she  was,  the 
only  one  among  a  whole  shipful,  and  I  —  I  did  n't 
know  but  what  she  might  think  it  rather  of  a 
strange  position  for  her." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Maria,  petulantly.  "  I 
guess  Lyddy  'd  know  how  to  conduct  herself  wher- 
ever she  was  ;  she  's  a  born  lady,  if  ever  there  was 
one.  But  what  I  think  is  "  —  Miss  Maria  paused, 
and  did  not  say  what  she  thought ;  but  it  was  evi- 
dently not  the  social  aspect  of  the  matter  which 
was  uppermost  in  her  mind.  In  fact,  she  had 
never  been  at  all  afraid  of  men,  whom  she  regarded 
as  a  more  inefficient  and  feebler-minded  kind  of 
women. 

"  The  only  thing  't  makes  me  feel  easier  is  what 
the  captain  said  about  the  young  men,"  said  Dea- 
con Latham. 

"  What  young  men  ?  "  asked  Miss  Maria. 

"  Why,  I  told  you  about  'em  I  "  retorted  the  ola 
man,  with  some  exasperation. 

"  You  told  me  about  two  young  men  that  stopped 
i>n  the  wharf  and  pitied  Lyddy's  worn-out  looks." 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  you  the  rest  ?  I  declare  for  't,  I 
ion't  believe  I  did  ;  I  be'n  so  put  about.  Well,  at 


THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  47 

we  was  drivin'  up  to  the  depot,  we  met  the  same 
two  young  men,  and  the  captain  asked  'em,  'Are 
you  goin'  or  not  a-goin'  ?' —  just  that  way;  and 
they  said,  '  We  're  goin'.'  And  he  said,  '  When 
you  comin'  aboard  ?  '  and  he  told  'em  he  was  goin' 
to  haul  out  this  mornin'  at  three  o'clock.  And 
they  asked  what  tug,  and  he  told  'em,  and  they 
fixed  it  up  between  'em  all  then  that  they  was  to 
come  aboard  from  the  tug,  when  she  'd  got  the  ship 
outside ;  and  that 's  what  I  suppose  they  did.  The 
captain  he  said  to  me  he  had  n't  mentioned  it  be- 
fore, because  he  wa'  n't  sure  't  they  'd  go  till  that 
minute.  He  give  'em  a  first-rate  of  a  character." 

Miss  Maria  said  nothing  for  a  long  while.  The 
subject  seemed  one  with  which  she  did  not  feel 
herself  able  to  grapple.  She  looked  all  about  the 
kitchen  for  inspiration,  and  even  cast  a  searching 
glance  into  the  wood-shed.  Suddenly  she  jumped 
from  her  chair,  and  ran  to  the  open  window  :  "  Mr. 
Goodlow  I  Mr.  Goodlow  !  I  wish  you  'd  come  in 
here  a  minute." 

She  hurried  to  meet  the  minister  at  the  front 
&oor,  her  father  lagging  after  her  with  the  infantile 
walk  of  an  old  man. 

Mr.  Goodlow  took  off  his  straw  hat  as  he  mounted 
the  stone  step  to  the  threshold,  and  said  good- 
inorning ;  they  did  not  shake  hands.  He  wore  a 
olack  alpaca  coat,  and  waistcoat  of  farmer's  satin ; 
his  hat  was  dark  straw,  like  Deacon  Latham's,  but 
it  was  low-crowned,  and  a  line  of  ornamental  open- 
rork  ran  round  it  near  the  too. 


48  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Come  into  the  settin'-room,"  said  Miss  Mai  ta. 
M  It 's  cooler,  in  there."  She  lost  no  time  in  laying 
fche  case  before  the  minister.  She  ended  by  say- 
ing, "  Father,  he  don't  feel  just  right  about  it,  and 
I  d'  know  as  I  'm  quite  clear  in  my  own  mind." 

The  minister  considered  a  while  in  silence  before 
he  said,  "  I  think  Lydia's  influence  upon  those 
around  her  will  be  beneficial,  whatever  her  situa* 
tion  in  life  may  be." 

"  There,  father  !  "  cried  Miss  Maria,  in  reproach- 
ful relief. 

"  You  're  right,  Maria,  you  're  right  I  "  assented 
the  old  man,  and  they  both  waited  for  the  minister 
to  continue. 

"  I  rejoiced  with  you,"  he  said,  "  when  this  op- 
portunity for  Lydia's  improvement  offered,  and  I 
am  not  disposed  to  feel  anxious  as  to  the  ways  and 
means.  Lydia  is  no  fool.  I  have  observed  in  her  a 
dignity,  a  sort  of  authority,  very  remarkable  in  one 
of  her  years." 

"  I  guess  the  boys  at  the  school  down  to  the 
Mill  Village  found  out  she  had  authority  enough," 
said  Miss  Maria,  promptly  materializing  the  idea. 

"  Precisely,"  said  Mr.  Goodlow. 

"  That 's  what  I  told  father,  in  the  first  place,'1 
laid  Miss  Maria.  "  I  guess  Lyddy  'd  know  how  to 
conduct  herself  wherever  she  was,  —  just  the  wordf 
I  used." 

"I   don't    deny  it,   Maria,   I   don't    deny  it,* 
ihrilly  piped  the  old  man.      "  I  ain't  afraid  of  any 


THE  LADY  OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  49 

barm  comin*  to  Lyddy  any  more  'n  what  you  be. 
But  what  I  said  was,  Wouldn't  she  feel  kind  of 
strange,  sort  of  lost,  as  you  may  say,  among  so 
many,  and  she  the  only  one  f  " 

"  She  will  know  how  to  adapt  herself  to  circum- 
stances," said  Mr.  Goodlow.  "I  was  conversing 
last  summer  with  that  Mrs.  Bland  who  boarded  at 
Mr.  Parker's,  and  she  told  me  that  girls  in  Europe 
are  brought  up  with  no  habits  of  self-reliance  what- 
ever, and  that  young  ladies  are  never  seen  on  the 
streets  alone  in  France  and  Italy." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  asked  Miss  Maria,  hesitat- 
ing to  accept  this  ridiculous  statement,  "  that  Mrs. 
Bland  exaggerated  some  ?  " 

"  She  talked  a  great  deal,"  admitted  Mr.  Good- 
low.  "  I  should  be  sorry  if  Lydia  ever  lost  any- 
thing of  that  native  confidence  of  hers  in  her  own 
judgment,  and  her  ability  to  take  care  of  herself 
under  any  circumstances,  and  I  do  not  think  she 
will.  She  never  seemed  conceited  to  me,  but  she 
was  the  most  self-reliant  girl  I  ever  saw." 

"  You  've  hit  it  there,  Mr.  Goodlow.  Such  a 
tpirit  as  she  always  had !  "  sighed  Miss  Maria. 
4  It  was  just  so  from  the  first.  It  used  to  go  to  my 
heart  to  see  that  little  thing  lookin'  after  herself, 
every  way,  and  not  askin'  anybody's  help,  but  just 
»8  quiet  and  proud  about  it !  She  '9  her  mother, 
fcll  over.  And  yest'day,  when  she  set  here  waitin 
w>r  the  stage,  and  it  did  seem  as  if  I  should  have 
U>  give  up,  hearin'  her  sob,  sob,  sob,  —  why,  Mr, 
4 


50  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Goodlow,  she  had  n't  any  more  idea  of  backin'  out 
than  — than  "  —  Miss  Maria  relinquished  the  search 
for  a  comparison,  and  went  into  another  room  for  a 
handkerchief.  "  I  don 't  believe  she  cared  over  and 
above  about  goin',  from  the  start,"  said  Miss  Ma- 
ria, returning,  "  but  when  once  she  'd  made  up  her 
mind  to  it,  there  she  was.  I  d'  know  as  she  took 
much  of  a  fancy  to  her  aunt,  but  you  could  n't  told 
from  anything  that  Lyddy  said.  Now,  if  I  have 
anything  on  my  mind,  I  have  to  blat  it  right  out, 
as  you  may  say  ;  I  can't  seem  to  bear  it  a  minute ; 
but  Lyddy 's  different.  Well,"  concluded  Miss  Ma- 
ria, "  I  guess  there  ain't  goin'  to  any  harm  come 
to  her.  But  it  did  give  me  a  kind  of  start,  first  off, 
when  father  up  and  got  to  feelin'  sort  of  bad  about 
it.  I  d'  know  as  I  should  thought  much  about  it,  if 
he  had  n't  seemed  to.  I  d'  know  as  I  should  ever 
thought  about  anything  except  her  not  havin'  any 
one  to  advise  with  about  her  clothes.  It 's  the 
only  thing  she  ain't  handy  with :  she  won't  know 
what  to  wear.  I  'm  afraid  she  '11  spoil  her  silk. 
I  d'  know  but  what  father 's  been  hasty  in  not  look- 
in'  into  things  carefuller  first.  He  most  always  does 
repent  afterwards." 

"  Could  n't  repent  beforehand ! "  retorted  Deacon 
Latham.  "  And  I  tell  you,  Maria,  I  never  saw  a 
much  finer  man  than  Captain  Jenness;  and  the 
saoin  's  everything  I  said  it  was,  and  more.  Lyddy 
reg'larly  went  off  over  it ;  V  I  guess,  as  Mr.  Good 
low  says,  she  '11  influence  'em  for  good.  Don't  you 


THE  LADY    OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  61 

'ret  about  her  clothes  any.  Yon  fitted  her  out  in 
apple-pie  order,  and  she  '11  soon  be  there.  'T  ain't 
but  a  little  ways  to  Try-East,  any  way,  to  what  it 
is  some  of  them  India  voyages,  Captain  Jennes* 
said.  He  had  his  own  daughters  out  the  last  voy- 
age ;  'n'  I  guess  he  can  tell  Lyddy  when  it  'a 
weather  to  wear  her  silk.  I  d?  know  as  I  'd  better 
said  anything  about  what  I  was  thinkin'.  I  don't 
want  to  be  noways  rash,  and  yet  I  thought  I 
could  n't  be  too  partic'lar." 

For  a  silent  moment  Miss  Maria  looked  sourly 
uncertain  as  to  the  usefulness  of  scruples  that  came 
so  long  after  the  fact.  Then  she  said  abruptly 
to  Mr.  Goodlow,  "  Was  it  you  or  Mr.  Baldwic 
pre&ched  Mirandy  Holcomb's  fune'l  sermon  ?  " 


VI 

ONI  of  the  advantages  of  the  negative  part  as- 
signed to  women  in  life  is  that  they  are  seldom 
forced  to  commit  themselves.  They  can,  if  they 
choose,  remain  perfectly  passive  while  a  great  many 
things  take  place  in  regard  to  them ;  they  need  not 
account  for  what  they  do  not  do.  From  time  to 
time  a  man  must  show  his  hand,  but  save  for  one 
supreme  exigency  a  woman  need  never  show  hers. 
She  moves  in  mystery  as  long  as  she  likes ;  and 
mere  reticence  in  her,  if  she  is  young  and  fair,  in- 
terprets itself  as  good  sense  and  good  taste. 

Lydia  was,  by  convention  as  well  as  by  instinct, 
mistress  of  the  situation  when  she  came  out  to 
breakfast,  and  confronted  the  young  men  again 
with  collected  nerves,  and  a  reserve  which  was  per- 
haps a  little  too  proud.  The  captain  was  there  to 
introduce  them,  and  presented  first  Mr.  Dunham, 
the  gentleman  who  had  spoken  to  her  grandfather 
on  the  wharf,  and  then  Mr.  Stamford,  his  friend 
and  senior  by  some  four  or  five  years.  They  were 
both  of  the  fair  New  England  complexion;  but 
Dunham's  eyes  were  blue,  and  Stamford's  dark 
gray.  Their  mustaches  were  blonde,  but  Dun- 
ham's curled  jauntily  outward  at  the  corners,  and 
hia  light  hair  waved  over  either  temple  from  the 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  53 

parting  in  the  middle.  Stamford's  mustache  was 
cut  short ;  his  hair  was  clipped  tight  to  his  shapely 
head,  and  not  parted  at  all ;  he  had  a  slightly  aqui- 
line nose,  with  sensitive  nostrils,  showing  the  carti- 
lage ;  his  face  was  darkly  freckled.  They  were  both 
handsome  fellows,  and  fittingly  dressed  in  rough 
blue,  which  they  wore  like  men  with  the  habit  of 
good  clothes;  they  made  Lydia  such  bows  as  she 
had  never  seen  before.  Then  the  Captain  intro- 
duced Mr.  Watterson,  the  first  officer,  to  all,  and 
sat  down,  saying  to  Thomas,  with  a  sort  of  guilty 
and  embarrassed  growl,  "  Ain't  he  out  yet  ?  Well, 
we  won't  wait,"  and  with  but  little  change  of  tone 
asked  a  blessing ;  for  Captain  Jenness  in  his  way- 
was  a  religious  man. 

There  was  a  sixth  plate  laid,  but  the  captain 
made  no  further  mention  of  the  person  who  was  not 
out  yet  till  shortly  after  the  coffee  was  poured,  when 
the  absentee  appeared,  hastily  closing  his  state-room 
door  behind  him,  and  then  waiting  on  foot,  with  a 
half-impudent,  half-intimidated  air,  while  Captain 
Jenness,  with  a  sort  of  elaborate  repressiveness, 
presented  him  as  Mr.  Hicks.  He  was  a  short  and 
ulight  young  man,  with  a  small  sandy  mustache 
curling  tightly  in  over  his  lip,  floating  reddish-blue 
eyes,  and  a  deep  dimple  in  his  weak,  slightly  re- 
treating chin.  He  had  an  air  at  once  amiable  and 
baddish,  with  an  expression,  curiously  blended,  oi 
•nonkey-like  humor  and  spaniel-like  apprehensive- 
He  did  not  look  well,  and  till  he  had  swal 


54  THE  LADY    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

lowed  two  cups  of  coffee  his  hand  shook.  The  cap- 
tain  watched  him  furtively  from  under  his  bushy 
eyebrows,  and  was  evidently  troubled  and  preoccu- 
pied, addressing  a  word  now  and  then  to  Mr.  Wat- 
terson,  who,  by  virtue  of  what  was  apparently  the 
ship's  discipline,  spoke  only  when  he  was  spoken 
to,  and  then  answered  with  prompt  acquiescence. 
Dunham  and  Staniford  exchanged  not  so  much  a 
glance  as  a  consciousness  in  regard  to  him,  which 
seemed  to  recognize  and  class  him.  They  talked 
to  each  other,  and  sometimes  to  the  captain.  Once 
they  spoke  to  Lydia.  Mr.  Dunham,  for  example, 
said,  "  Miss  —  ah  —  Blood,  don't  you  think  we  are 
uncommonly  fortunate  in  having  such  lovely  weather 
for  a  start-off  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lydia. 

Mr.  Dunham  arrested  himself  in  the  use  of  his 
fork.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  he  smiled. 

It  seemed  to  be  a  question,  and  after  a  moment's 
doubt  Lydia  answered,  "  I  did  n't  know  it  was 
Btrange  to  have  fine  weather  at  the  start." 

"  Oh,  but  I  can  assure  you  it  is,"  said  Dunham, 
with  a  certain  lady-like  sweetness  of  manner  which 
he  had.  "  According  to  precedent,  we  ought  to  be 
all  deathly  seasick." 

"Not  at  this  time  of  year,"  said  Captain  Jen- 
ness. 

"  Not  at  this  time  of  year"  repeated  Mr.  Wat- 
tenon,  as  if  the  remark  were  an  order  to  the  crew. 

Dunham  referred  the  matter  with  a  look  to  hif 


THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  65 

friend,  who  refused  to  take  part  in  it,  and  then  he 
let  it  drop.  But  presently  Staniford  himself  at- 
tempted the  civility  of  some  conversation  with 
Lydia.  He  asked  her  gravely,  and  somewhat  se- 
verely, if  she  had  suffered  much  from  the  heat  of 
the  day  before. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia,  "  it  was  very  hot." 

"  I  'm  told  it  was  the  hottest  day  of  the  summer, 
BO  far,"  continued  Staniford,  with  the  same  sever 
ity. 

"  I  want  to  know  !  "  cried  Lydia. 

The  young  man  did  not  say  anything  more. 

As  Dunham  lit  his  cigar  at  Stamford's  on  deck, 
the  former  said  significantly,  "  What  a  very  Amer- 
ican thing  !  " 

"  What  a  bore  !  "  answered  the  other. 

Dunham  had  never  been  abroad,  as  one  might 
imagine  from  his  calling  Lydia's  presence  a  very 
American  thing,  but  he  had  always  consorted  with 
people  who  had  lived  in  Europe  ;  he  read  the  Re- 
vue des  Deux  Mondes  habitually,  and  the  London 
weekly  newspapers,  and  this  gave  him  the  foreign 
stand-point  from  which  he  was  fond  of  viewing  his 
native  world.  "  It 's  incredible,"  he  added.  "  Who 
n  the  world  can  she  be  ?  " 

"Oh,  /don't  know,"  returned  Staniford,  with  a 
old   disgust.      "  I  should  object  to  the  society  of 
i'ich  a  young  person  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  un- 
Jer  the  most  favorable  circumstances^  and  with  fre- 
quent respites ;  but  to  be  imprisoned  on  the  same 


56  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

ihip  with  her,  and  to  have  her  on  one's  mind  and 
in  one's  way  the  whole  time,  is  more  than  I  bar- 
gained for.  Captain  Jenness  should  have  told  us ; 
though  I  suppose  he  thought  that  if  she  could  stand 
it,  we  might.  There  's  that  point  of  view.  But  it 
takes  all  ease  and  comfort  out  of  the  prospect. 
Here  comes  that  blackguard."  Staniford  turned 
his  back  towards  Mr.  Hicks,  who  was  approaching, 
but  Dunham  could  not  quite  do  this,  though  he 
waited  for  the  other  to  speak  first. 

"  Will  you  —  would  you  oblige  me  with  a  light  ?  " 
Mr.  Hicks  asked,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  case. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Dunham,  with  the  comradery 
of  the  smoker. 

Mr.  Hicks  seemed  to  gather  courage  from  his 
cigar.  "  You  did  n't  expect  to  find  a  lady  passen- 
ger on  board,  did  you  ?  "  His  poor  disagreeable 
little  face  was  lit  up  with  unpleasant  enjoyment  of 
the  anomaly.  Dunham  hesitated  for  an  answer. 

"  One  never  can  know  what  one's  fellow  passen- 
gers are  going  to  be,"  said  Staniford,  turning  about, 
and  looking  not  at  Mr.  Hicks's  face,  but  his  feet, 
with  an  effect  of  being,  upon  the  whole,  disap- 
pointed not  to  find  them  cloven.  He  added,  to  put 
tho  man  down  rather  than  from  an  exact  belief  in 
his  own  suggestion,  "  She  's  probably  some  relation 
of  the  captain's." 

*<  Why,  that 's  the  joke  of  it,"  said  Hicks,  flut- 
tered with  his  superior  knowledge.  "  I  Ve  been 
pumping  the  cabin-boy,  and  he  says  the  captain 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  57 

never  saw  her  till  yesterday.  She  's  an  up-country 
ichool-maim,  and  she  came  down  here  with  her 
grandfather  yesterday.  She  's  going  out  to  meet 
friends  of  hers  in  Venice."  The  little  man  pulled 
at  his  cigar,  and  coughed  and  chuckled,  and  waited 
confidently  for  the  impression. 

"  Dunham,"  said  Staniford,  "  did  I  hand  you  that 
sketch-block  of  mine  to  put  in  your  bag,  when  we 
were  packing  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  Ve  got  it." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that.  Did  you  see  Murray  yester- 
day?" 

"  No ;  he  was  at  Cambridge." 

"  I  thought  he  was  to  have  met  you  at  Parker's." 
The  conversation  no  longer  included  Mr.  Hicks  or 
the  subject  he  had  introduced ;  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  walked  away  to  another  part  of  the 
ship.  As  soon  as  he  was  beyond  ear-shot,  Staniford 
again  spoke :  "  Dunham,  this  girl  is  plainly  one  ol 
those  cases  of  supernatural  innocence,  on  the  part 
of  herself  and  her  friends,  which,  as  you  suggested, 
wouldn't  occur  among  any  other  people  in  the 
World  but  ours." 

"  You  're  a  good  fellow,  Staniford  !  "  cried  Dun- 
ham. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  call  myself  simply  a  human 
being,  with  the  elemental  instincts  of  a  gentleman, 
as  far  as  concerns  this  matter.  The  girl  has  been 
placed  in  a  position  which  could  be  made  very  pain- 
ful to  her.  It  seems  to  me  it 's  our  part  to  prevent 


i8  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

it  from  being  so.  I  doubt  if  she  finds  it  at  &U 
anomalous,  and  if  we  choose  she  need  never  do  so 
till  after  we  've  parted  with  her.  I  fancy  we  can 
preserve  her  unconsciousness  intact." 

"  Staniford,  this  is  like  you,"  «aid  his  friend,  with 
glistening  eyes.  "  I  had  some  wild  notion  of  the 
kind  myself,  but  I  'm  so  glad  you  spoke  of  it  first." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  responded  Staniford.  "  We 
must  make  her  feel  that  there  is  nothing  irregular 
or  uncommon  in  her  being  here  as  she  is.  I  don't 
know  how  the  matter 's  to  be  managed,  exactly ;  it 
must  be  a  negative  benevolence  for  the  most  part ; 
but  it  can  be  done.  The  first  thing  is  to  cow  that 
nuisance  yonder.  Pumping  the  cabin-boy  I  The 
little  sot  I  Look  here,  Dunham  ;  it 's  such  a  satis- 
faction to  me  to  think  of  putting  that  fellow  under 
foot  that  I  '11  leave  you  all  the  credit  of  saving  the 
young  lady's  feelings.  I  should  like  to  begin  stamp- 
ing on  him  at  once." 

"  I  think  you  have  made  a  beginning  already.  I 
confess  I  wish  you  had  n't  such  heavy  nails  in  youi 
boots!" 

"  Oh,  they  '11  do  him  good,  confound  him  !  "  said 
Staniford. 

"  I  should  have  liked  it  better  if  her  name  had  n  I 
been  Blood,"  remarked  Dunham,  presently. 

'  It  doesn't  matter  what  a  girl's  surname  is.  Be- 
lides,  Blood  is  very  frequent  in  some  parts  of  thf 
State." 

"  She  'B  very  pretty,  is  n't  she  ? "  Dunham  sug 
tested. 


THE  LADY   OP   THE  AROOSTOOK.  5$ 

'*Oh,  pretty  enough,  yes,'*  replied  Staniford 
'Nothing  is  so  common  as  the  pretty  girl  of  ou? 
nation.  Her  beauty  is  part  of  the  general  tiresome- 
ness of  the  whole  situation." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  ventured  his  friend,  further. 
s*  that  she  has  rather  a  lady-like  air  ?  " 

"She  wanted  to  know,"  said  Staniford,  witl  * 
laugh. 

Dunham  was  silent  a  while  before  he  asked, 
"  What  do  you  suppose  her  first  name  is  ?  " 

"  Jerusha,  probably." 

"  Oh,  impossible  ! " 

"  Well,  then,  —  Lurella.  You  have  no  idea  ol 
the  grotesqueness  of  these  people's  minds.  I  used 
to  see  a  great  deal  of  their  intimate  life  when  I  went 
on  my  tramps,  and  chanced  it  among  them,  for  bed 
and  board,  wherever  I  happened  to  be.  We  culti- 
vated Yankees  and  the  raw  material  seem  hardly  of 
the  same  race.  Where  the  Puritanism  has  gone  out 
of  the  people  in  spots,  there  's  the  rankest  growth 
of  all  sorts  of  crazy  heresies,  and  the  old  scriptural 
nomenclature  has  given  place  to  something  com- 
pounded of  the  fancifulness  of  story-paper  romance 
and  the  gibberish  of  spiritualism.  They  make  up 
their  names,  sometimes,  and  call  a  child  by  what 
Eounds  pretty  to  them.  I  wonder  how  the  captain 
picked  up  that  scoundrel." 

The  turn  of  Staniford's  thought  to  Hicks  wa& 
iuggested  by  the  appearance  of  Captain  Jenness, 
vho  now  issued  from  the  cabin  gangway,  and  caiut 


5C  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

toward  them  with  the  shadow  of  unwonted  troubla 
in  his  face.  The  captain,  too,  was  smoking. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  began,  with  the  obvious 
indirectness  of  a  man  not  used  to  diplomacy,  "  how 
do  you  like  your  accommodations  ?  " 

Staniford  silently  acquiesced  in  Dunham's  reply 
that  they  found  them  excellent.  "  But  you  don't 
mean  to  say,"  Dunham  added,  "  that  you  're  going 
to  give  us  beefsteak  and  all  the  vegetables  of  the 
season  the  whole  way  over  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  captain ;  "  we  shall  put  you  on 
sea-fare  soon  enough.  But  you  11  like  it.  You 
don't  want  the  same  things  at  sea  that  you  do  on 
shore;  your  appetite  chops  round  into  a  different 
quarter  altogether,  and  you  want  salt  beef;  but 
you  '11  get  it  good.  Your  room's  pretty  snug,"  he 
suggested. 

"  Oh,  it 's  big  enough,"  said  Staniford,  to  whom 
he  had  turned  as  perhaps  more  in  authority  than 
Dunham.  "  While  we  're  well  we  only  sleep  in  it, 
and  if  we  're  seasick  it  does  n't  matter  where  we 
are." 

The  captain  knocked  the  ash  from  his  cigar  with 
the  tip  of  his  fat  little  finger,  and  looked  down. 
-<  I  was  in  hopes  I  could  have  let  you  had  a  room 
apiece,  but  I  had  another  passenger  jumped  on  me 
at  the  last  minute.  I  suppose  you  see  what 's  the 
matter  with  Mr.  Hicks  ?  "  He  looked  up  from  one 
Vo  another,  and  they  replied  with  a  glance  of  per- 
ect  intelligence.  "I  don't  generally  talk  my 


THE   LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  61 

passengers  over  with  one  another,  but  I  thought 
I  'd  better  speak  to  you  about  him.  I  found  him 
yesterday  evening  at  my  agents',  with  his  father. 
He's  just  been  on  a  spree,  a  regular  two  weeks' 
fcear,  sftad  the  old  gentleman  did  n't  know  what  to  do 
with  him,  on  shore,  any  longer.  He  thought  he  'd 
*end  him  to  sea  a  voyage,  and  see  what  would  come 
of  it,  and  he  plead  hard  with  me  to  take  him.  I 
did  n't  want  to  take  him,  but  he  worked  away  at 
me  till  I  couldn't  say  no.  I  argued  in  my  own 
mind  that  he  couldn't  get  anything  to  drink  on 
my  ship,  and  that  he  'd  behave  himself  well  enough 
as  long  as  he  was  sober."  The  captain  added  rue- 
fully, "He  looks  worse  this  morning  than  he  did 
last  night.  He  looks  bad.  I  told  the  old  gentle- 
man that  if  he  got  into  any  trouble  at  Try-East,  or 
any  of  the  ports  where  we  touched,  he  should  n't 
set  foot  on  my  ship  again.  But  I  guess  he  '11  keep 
pretty  straight.  He  has  n't  got  any  money,  for  one 
thing." 

Staniford  laughed.  "  He  stops  drinking  for 
obvious  reasons,  if  for  no  others,  like  Artemus 
Ward's  destitute  inebriate.  Did  you  think  only 
of  us  in  deciding  whether  you  should  take  him  ?  " 

The  captain  looked  up  quickly  at  the  young  men, 
is  if  touched  in  a  sore  place.  "  Well,  there  again 
I  did  n't  seem  to  get  my  bearings  just  right.  I 
suppose  you  mean  the  young  lady  ? "  Staniford 
ttiotionlessly  and  silently  assented.  "Well,  she's 
•lore  of  a  young  lady  than  I  thought  ste  was,  when 


62  THE   LADY    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

her  grandfather  first  come  down  here  and  talked  ol 
sending  her  over  with  me.  He  was  always  speak- 
ing about  his  little  girl,  you  know,  and  I  got  the 
idea  that  she  was  about  thirteen,  or  eleven,  may  be. 
I  thought  the  child  might  be  some  bother  on  the 
voyage,  but  thinks  I,  I  'm  used  to  children,  and  I 
guess  I  can  manage.  Bless  your  soul !  when  I  first 
see  her  on  the  wharf  yesterday,  it  most  knocked  me 
down !  I  never  believed  she  was  half  so  tall,  no- 
half  so  good-looking."  Staniford  smiled  at  this 
expression  of  the  captain's  despair,  but  the  captain 
did  not  smile.  "  Why,  she  was  as  pretty  as  a  bird 
Well,  there  I  was.  It  was  no  time  then  to  back 
out.  The  old  man  would  n't  understood.  Besides, 
there  was  the  young  lady  herself,  and  she  seemed 
BO  forlorn  and  helpless  that  I  kind  of  pitied  her.  I 
thought,  What  if  it  was  one  of  my  own  girls  ?  And 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  she  should  n't  know  from 
anything  I  said  or  did  that  she  was  n't  just  as  much 
at  home  and  just  as  much  in  place  on  my  ship  as 
she  would  be  in  my  house.  I  suppose  what  made 
me  feel  easier  about  it,  and  took  the  queerness  off 
Borne,  was  my  having  my  own  girls  along  last  voy- 
age. To  be  sure,  it  ain't  quite  the  same  thing/ 
said  the  captain,  interrogatively. 

"  Not  quite/'  assented  Stamford. 

"If  there  was  two  of  them/'  said  the  captain,  "I 
don't  suppose  I  should  feel  so  bad  about  it.  But 
Oiinks  I,  A  lady  's  a  lady  the  world  over,  and  a 
B  a  gentleman."  The  captain  looked 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  63 

significantly  at  the  young  men.  "  As  for  that  other 
fellow,"  added  Captain  Jenness,  "if  I  can't  tak- 
care  of  him,  I  think  I  'd  better  stop  going  to  se& 
altogether,  and  go  into  the  coasting  trade." 

He  resumed  his  cigar  with  defiance,  and  wai 
about  turning  away  when  Staniford  spoke.  "  Cap- 
lain  Jenness,  my  friend  and  I  had  been  talking  this 
little  matter  over  just  before  you  came  up.  Will 
you  let  me  say  that  I  'm  rather  proud  of  having 
reasoned  in  much  the  same  direction  as  yourself  ?  " 

This  was  spoken  with  that  air  which  gave  Stan- 
iford a  peculiar  distinction,  and  made  him  the  de- 
spair and  adoration  of  his  friend:  it  endowed  the 
subject  with  seriousness,  and  conveyed  a  sentiment 
of  grave  and  noble  sincerity.  The  captain  held 
out  a  hand  to  each  of  the  young  men,  crossing  hie 
wrists  in  what  seemed  a  favorite  fashion  with  him. 
"Good!"  he  cried,  heartily.  "I  thought  I  knew 
joa." 


VII 

and  Dunham  drew  stools  to  the  rail, 
and  sat  down  with  their  cigars  after  the  captain 
left  them.  The  second  mate  passed  by,  and  cast 
a  friendly  glance  at  them ;  he  had  whimsical  brown 
eyes  that  twinkled  under  his  cap-peak,  while  a 
lurking  smile  played  under  his  heavy  mustache ; 
but  he  did  not  speak.  Staniford  said,  there  was  a 
pleasant  fellow,  and  he  should  like  to  sketch  him. 
He  was  only  an  amateur  artist,  and  he  had  been 
only  an  amateur  in  life  otherwise,  so  far ;  but  lie 
did  not  pretend  to  have  been  anything  else. 

"  Then  you  're  not  sorry  you  came,  Staniford  ?  " 
&sked  Dunham,  putting  his  hand  on  his  friend's 
knee.  He  characteristically  assumed  the  responsi- 
bility, although  the  voyage  by  sailing-vessel  rather 
than  steamer  was  their  common  whim,  and  it  had 
been  Staniford's  preference  that  decided  them  for 
Trieste  rather  than  any  nearer  port. 

"  No,  I  'm  not  sorry,  —  if  you  call  it  come,  a1- 
ready.  I  think  a  bit  of  Europe  will  be  a  very 
good  thing  for  the  present,  or  as  long  as  I  'm  in  this 
irresolute  mood.  If  I  understand  it,  Europe  is  the 
place  for  American  irresolution.  When  I  Ve  made 
up  my  mind,  I  '11  come  home  again.  I  still  think 
Colorado  is  the  thing,  though  I  have  n't  abandoned 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.  66 

California  altogether ;  it 's  a  question  of  cattle- 
range  and  sheep-ranch." 

"  You  '11  decide  against  both,"  said  Dunham. 

"How  would  you  like  West  Virginia?  They 
cattle-range  in  West  Virginia,  too.  They  may 
sheep-ranch,  too,  for  all  I  know,  —  no,  that 's  in  Old 
Virginia.  The  trouble  is  that  the  Virginias,  other 
wise  irreproachable,  are  not  paying  fields  for  such 
enterprises.  They  say  that  one  is  a  sure  thing  in 
California,  and  the  other  is  a  sure  thing  in  Col- 
orado. They  give  you  the  figures."  Stamford  lit 
another  cigar. 

"But  why  should  n't  you  stay  where  you  are, 
Staniford  ?  You  've  money  enough  left,  after  all." 

"  Yes,  money  enough  for  one.  But  there 's  some- 
thing ignoble  in  living  on  a  small  stated  income, 
unless  you  have  some  object  in  view  besides  living, 
and  I  have  n't,  you  know.  It 's  a  duty  I  owe  to  the 
general  frame  of  things  to  make  more  money." 

"  If  you  turned  your  mind  to  any  one  thing,  I  'm 
Bure  you  'd  succeed  where  you  are,"  Dunham  urged. 

"  That 's  just  the  trouble,"  retorted  his  friend. 
"  I  can't  turn  my  mind  to  any  one  thing,  —  I  'm 
too  universally  gifted.  I  paint  a  little,  I  model  a 
little,  I  play  a  very  little  indeed ;  I  can  write  a 
book  notice.  The  ladies  praise  my  art,  and  the 
iditors  keep  my  literature  a  long  time  before  they 
print  it.  This  does  n't  seem  the  highest  aim  of  be- 
tfig.  I  have  the  noble  earth-hunger;  I  must  get 
ipon  the  land.  That's  why  I've  got  upon  the 
§ 


66  mHE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

water. '  Staniford  laughed  again,  and  pulled  com- 
fortably at  his  cigar.  "Now,  you,"  he  added,  aftei 
»  pause,  in  which  Dunham  did  not  reply,  "  you  have 
not  had  losses ;  you  still  have  everything  comfort- 
able about  you.  2)u  hast  Alles  was  Memchen  be* 
gehr,  even  to  the  schonsten  Augen  of  the  divine 
Miss  Hibbard." 

"  Yes,  Staniford,  that 's  it.  I  hate  your  going 
out  there  all  alone.  Now,  if  you  were  taking  some 
nice  girl  with  you ! "  Dunham  said,  with  a  lever's 
fond  desire  that  his  friend  should  be  in  love,  too. 

"  To  those  wilds  ?  To  a  redwood  shanty  in  Cali- 
fornia, or  a  turf  hovel  in  Colorado  ?  What  nice 
girl  would  go  ?  '  I  will  take  some  savage  woman, 
she  shall  rear  my  dusky  race.' ' 

44 1  don't  like  to  have  you  take  any  risks  of  de 
generating,"  began  Dunham. 

"  With  what  you  know  to  be  my  natural  tend- 
encies ?  Your  prophetic  eye  prefigures  my  panta- 
loons in  the  tops  of  my  boots.  Well,  there  is  time 
yet  to  turn  back  from  the  brutality  of  a  patriarchal 
life.  You  must  allow  that  I  've  taken  the  longest 
way  round  in  going  West.  In  Italy  there  are  many 
chances;  and  besides,  you  know,  I  like  to  talk." 

It  seemed  to  be  an  old  subject  between  them, 
and  they  discussed  it  languidly,  like  some  abstract 
topic  rather  than  a  reality. 

"  If  you  only  had  some  tie  to  bind  you  to  the 
East,  I  should  feel  pretty  safe  about  you,"  said 
Duubam,  presently. 


THE   LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  6! 

•*  I  have  you,"  answered  his  friend,  demurely. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  nothing,"  said  Dunham,  with  sinoer 
ity. 

"  Well,  I  may  form  some  tie  in  Italy.  Art  maj 
fall  in  love  with  me,  there.  How  would  you  likf 
to  have  me  settle  in  Florence,  and  set  up  a  studi  a 
instead  of  a  ranch,  —  choose  between  sculpture  and 
painting,  instead  of  cattle  and  sheep?  After  all, 
it  does  grind  me  to  have  lost  that  money  I  If  1 
had  only  been  swindled  out  of  it,  I  should  n't  have 
cared ;  but  when  you  go  and  make  a  bad  thing  of 
it  yourself,  with  your  eyes  open,  there  's  a  reluc- 
tance to  place  the  responsibility  where  it  belongs 
that  doesn't  occur  in  the  other  case.  Dunham,  do 
you  think  it  altogether  ridiculous  that  I  should  feel 
there  was  something  sacred  in  the  money  ?  When 
I  remember  how  hard  my  poor  old  father  worked 
to  get  it  together,  it  seems  wicked  that  I  should 
have  stupidly  wasted  it  on  the  venture  I  did.  I 
want  to  get  it  back  ;  I  want  to  make  money.  And 
BO  I  'm  going  out  to  Italy  with  you,  to  waste  more. 
I  don't  respect  myself  as  I  should  if  I  were  on  a 
Pullman  palace  car,  speeding  westward.  I  '11  own 
I  like  this  better." 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  right,  Stamford,"  said  his  friend. 
w  The  voyage  will  do  you  good,  and  you  '11  have 
time  to  think  everything  over,  and  start  fairer  when 
you  get  back." 

"  That  girl,"  observed  Staniford,  with  characteris- 
tic abruptness,  "  is  a  type  that  is  commoner  than  we 


68  THE  LADl    OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

imagine  in  New  England.  We  fair  people  fancy 
we  are  the  only  genuine  Yankees.  I  guess  that  'a 
a  mistake.  There  must  have  been  a  good  many 
dark  Puritans.  In  fact,  we  always  think  of  Puri- 
tans as  dark,  don't  we  ?  " 

"  I  believe  we  do,"  assented  Dunham.  "  Per 
haps  on  account  of  their  black  clothes." 

*'  Perhaps,"  said  Staniford.  "  At  any  rate,  I  'm 
so  tired  of  the  blonde  type  in  fiction  that  I  rathe* 
like  the  other  thing  in  life.  Every  novelist  runs  a 
blonde  heroine  ;  I  wonder  why.  This  girl  has  the 
clear  Southern  pallor  ;  she  's  of  the  olive  hue  ;  and 
her  eyes  are  black  as  sloes,  —  not  that  I  know  what 
sloes  are.  Did  she  remind  you  of  anything  in  par- 
ticular?" 

"  Yes ;  a  little  of  Faed's  Evangeline,  as  she  sat 
in  the  door-way  of  the  warehouse  yesterday." 

"Exactly.  I  wish  the  picture  were  more  of  a 
picture ;  but  I  don't  know  that  it  matters.  She '« 
more  of  a  picture." 

"  '  Pretty  as  a  bird,'  the  captain  said." 

"  Bird  is  n't  bad.  But  the  bird  is  in  her  manner. 
There  's  something  tranquilly  alert  in  her  manner 
that 's  like  a  bird ;  like  a  bird  that  lingers  on  its 
perch,  looking  at  you  over  its  shoulder,  if  you 
come  up  behind.  That  trick  of  the  heavily  lifted, 
half  lifted  eyelids,  —  I  wonder  if  it 's  a  trick.  The 
long  lashes  can't  be ,  she  can't  make  them  curl  up 
At  the  edges.  Blood, — Lurella  Blood.  And  she 
wants  to  know."  Staniford's  voice  fell  thoughtful 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  69 

"  She  'a  more  slender  than  Faed's  Evangeline.  Faed 
painted  rather  too  fat  a  sufferer  on  that  tombstone. 
Lurella  Blood  has  a  very  pretty  figure.  Lurella. 
Why  Lurella  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come,  Staniford  I  "  cried  Dunham.  "  It  is 
nM  fair  to  call  the  girl  by  that  jingle  without  some 
ground  for  it." 

"  I  'm  sure  her  name  's  Lurella,  for  she  wanted 
fco  know.  Besides,  there  's  as  much  sense  in  it  as 
there  is  in  any  name.  It  sounds  very  well.  Lurella. 
It  is  mere  prejudice  that  condemns  the  novel  col- 
location of  syllables." 

"  I  wonder  what  she  's  thinking  of  now,  —  what  'i 
passing  in  her  mind,"  mused  Dunham  aloud. 

"  You  want  to  know,  too,  do  you  ?  "  mocked  his 
friend.  "  I  '11  tell  you  what  :  processions  of  young 
men  so  long  that  they  are  an  hour  getting  by  a 
given  point.  That 's  what 's  passing  in  every  girl's 
mind  —  when  she  's  thinking.  It 's  perfectly  right. 
Processsions  of  young  girls  are  similarly  passing  in 
our  stately  and  spacious  intellects.  It 's  the  chief 
business  of  the  youth  of  one  sex  to  think  of  the 
youth  of  the  other  sex." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  assented  Dunham ;  "  and  I 
believe  in  it,  too  "  — 

"  Of  course  you  do,  you  wicked  wretch,  you  aban- 
doned Lovelace,  you  bruiser  of  ladies'  hearts  I  You 
Uope  the  procession  is  composed  entirely  of  your- 
•elf.  What  would  the  divine  Hibbard  say  to  youi 
goings-on  ?  " 


TO  THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Staniford  !  It  is  n't  fair,"  pleaded 
Dunham,  with  the  flattered  laugh  which  the  best  o! 
men  give  when  falsely  attainted  of  gallantry.  "  I 
was  wondering  whether  she  was  feeling  homesick, 
or  strange,  or  "  — 

"  I  will  go  below  and  ask  her,'*  said  Stamford 
"  I  know  she  will  tell  me  the  exact  truth.  They 
always  do.  Or  if  you  will  take  a  guess  of  mine  in- 
stead of  her  word  for  it,  I  will  hazard  the  surmise 
that  she  is  not  at  all  homesick.  What  has  a  pretty 
young  girl  to  regret  in  such  a  life  as  she  has  left  ? 
It 's  the  most  arid  and  joyless  existence  under  the 
sun.  She  has  never  known  anything  like  society. 
In  the  country  with  us,  the  social  side  must  always 
have  been  somewhat  paralyzed,  but  there  are  mon- 
umental evidences  of  pleasures  in  other  days  that 
are  quite  extinct  now.  You  see  big  dusty  ball- 
rooms in  the  old  taverns  :  ball-rooms  that  have  had 
no  dancing  in  them  for  half  a  century,  and  where 
they  give  you  a  bed  sometimes.  There  used  to  be 
academies,  too,  in  the  hill  towns,  where  they  fur- 
nished a  rude  but  serviceable  article  of  real  learn- 
ing, and  where  the  local  octogenarian  remembers 
seeing  something  famous  in  the  way  of  theatricals 
on  examination-day;  but  neither  his  children  nor 
bis  grandchildren  have  seen  the  like.  There  's  a 
decay  of  the  religious  sentiment,  and  the  church  is 
no  longer  a  social  centre,  with  merry  meetings 
among  the  tombstones  between  the  morning  and 
the  afternoon  service.  Superficial  humanitarianisra 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  71 

of  one  kind  or  another  has  killed  the  good  old  or- 
thodoxy, as  the  railroads  have  killed  the  turnpike* 
and  the  country  taverns ;  and  the  common  schools 
have  killed  the  academies.  Why,  I  don't  iupposo 
this  girl  ever  saw  anything  livelier  than  a  town- 
ship cattle  show,  or  a  Sunday-school  picnic,  in  her 
life.  They  don't  pay  visits  in  the  country  except  at 
rare  intervals,  and  their  evening  parties,  when  they 
Lave  any,  are  something  to  strike  you  dead  with 
pity.  They  used  to  clear  away  the  corn-husks  and 
pumpkins  on  the  barn  floor,  and  dance  by  the  light 
of  tin  lanterns.  At  least,  that 's  the  traditional 
thing.  The  actual  thing  is  sitting  around  four  sides 
of  the  room,  giggling,  whispering,  looking  at  pho- 
tograph albums,  and  coaxing  somebody  to  play  on 
the  piano.  The  banquet  is  passed  in  the  form  of 
apples  and  water.  I  have  assisted  at  some  rural 
festivals  where  the  apples  were  omitted.  Upon  the 
whole,  I  wonder  our  country  people  don't  all  go 
mad.  They  do  go  mad,  a  great  many  of  them, 
and  manage  to  get  a  little  glimpse  of  society  in  the 
insane  asylums."  Staniford  ended  his  tirade  with 

laugh,  in  which  he  vented  his  humorous  sense  and 
lis  fundamental  pity  of  the  conditions  he  had  cari- 
catured. 

"  But  how,"  demanded  Dunham,  breaking  rebell- 
lously  from  the  silence  in  which  he  had  listened, 
4  do  you  account  for  her  good  manner  ?  " 

*'  She  probably  was  born  with  a  genius  for  it 
Some  people  are  born  w'.th  a  geniua  for  one  thing 


72  THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

and  some  with  a  genius  for  another.  I,  for  exam- 
ple, am  an  artistic  genius,  forced  to  be  an  amateui 
by  the  delusive  possession  of  early  wealth,  and  no^w 
burning  with  a  creative  instinct  in  the  direction  of 
the  sheep  or  cattle  business ;  you  have  the  gift  of 
universal  optimism ;  Lurella  Blood  has  the  genius 
of  good  society.  Give  that  girl  a  winter  among 
nice  people  in  Boston,  and  you  would  never  know 
that  she  was  not  born  on  Beacon  Hill." 

"  Oh,  I  doubt  that/'  said  Dunham. 

"  You  doubt  it  ?  Pessimist !  " 

"  But  you  implied  just  now  that  she  had  no  sen- 
Bibility,"  pursued  Dunham. 

"  So  I  did  I  "  cried  Staniford,  cheerfully.  "  Social 
genius  and  sensibility  are  two  very  different  things ; 
the  cynic  might  contend  they  were  incompatible, 
'  ut  I  won't  insist  so  far.  I  dare  say  she  may  regret 
the  natal  spot;  most  of  us  have  a  dumb,  brutish 
attachment  to  the  cari  luoglii ;  but  if  she  knows 
anything,  she  hates  its  surroundings,  and  must  be 
glad  to  get  out  into  the  world.  I  should  like 
mightily  to  know  how  the  world  strikes  her,  as  far 
as  she  's  gone.  But  I  doubt  if  she  's  one  to  betray 
her  own  counsel  in  any  way.  She  looks  deep,  Lu- 
rella does."  Staniford  laughed  again  at  the  pain 
rfiich  his  insistence  upon  the  name  brought  into 
Dunham's  face. 


VIII 

AFTER  dinner,  nature  avenged  herself  in  th.€ 
f oung  men  for  their  vigils  of  the  night  before,  when 
they  had  stayed  up  so  late,  parting  with  friends, 
that  they  had  found  themselves  early  risers  without 
having  been  abed.  They  both  slept  so  long  that 
Dunham,  leaving  Staniford  to  a  still  unfinished 
nap,  came  on  deck  between  five  and  six  o'clock. 

Lydia  was  there,  wrapped  against  the  freshening 
breeze  in  a  red  knit  shawl,  and  seated  on  a  stool  in 
the  waist  of  the  ship,  in  the  Evangeline  attitude, 
and  with  the  wistful,  Evangeline  look  in  her  face, 
as  she  gazed  out  over  the  far-weltering  sea-line, 
from  which  all  trace  of  the  shore  had  vanished. 
She  seemed  to  the  young  man  very  interesting,  and 
he  approached  her  with  that  kindness  for  all  other 
women  in  his  heart  which  the  lover  feels  in  absence 
from  his  beloved,  and  with  a  formless  sense  that 
some  retribution  was  due  her  from  him  for  the 
roughness  with  which  Staniford  had  surmised  her 
natural  history.  Women  had  always  been  dear  and 
sacred  to  him ;  he  liked,  beyond  most  young  men, 
to  be  with  them  ;  he  was  forever  calling  upon  them, 
getting  introduced  to  them,  waiting  upon  them,  in- 
renting  little  services  for  them,  corresponding  with 
them,  and  wearing  himself  out  in  their  interest.  II 


74  THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

is  said  that  women  do  not  value  men  of  this  sort  so 
much  as  men  of  some  other  sorts.  It  was  long,  at 
any  rate,  before  Dunham  —  whom  people  always 
called  Charley  Dunham  —  found  the  woman  who 
thought  him  more  lovely  than  every  other  woman 
pronounced  him  ;  and  naturally  Miss  Hibbard  was 
the  most  exacting  of  her  sex.  She  required  all 
those  offices  which  Dunham  delighted  to  render 
and  many  besides :  being  an  invalid,  she  needed  de- 
votion. She  had  refused  Dunham  before  going  out 
to  Europe  with  her  mother,  and  she  had  written  to 
take  him  back  after  she  got  there.  He  was  now  on 
his  way  to  join  her  in  Dresden,  where  he  hoped 
that  he  might  marry  her,  and  be  perfectly  sacrificed 
to  her  ailments.  She  only  lacked  poverty  in  order 
to  be  thoroughly  displeasing  to  most  men ;  but 
Dunham  had  no  misgiving  save  in  regard  to  her 
money  ;  he  wished  she  had  no  money. 

"  A  good  deal  more  motion,  is  n't  there  ?  "  he 
said  to  Lydia,  smiling  sunnily  as  he  spoke,  an»l 
holding  his  hat  with  one  hand.  "  Do  you  find  it 
unpleasant  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  not  at  all.  I  like  it." 
"  Oh,  there  is  n't  enough  swell  to  make  it  uncom- 
fortable, yet,"  asserted  Dunham,  looking  about  to 
gee  if  there  were  not  something  he  could  do  for  her, 
'  And  you  may  turn  out  a  good  sailor.  Were  you 
aver  at  sea  before  ?  " 

"  No  ;  this  is  the  first  time  I  was  ever  on  a  ship.' 
''  Ifl  it  possible  I "  cried  Dunham ;  he  was  now 


THE  LADY  OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  75 

fairly  at  sea  for  the  first  time  himself,  though  by 
virtue  of  his  European  associations  he  seemed  to 
have  made  many  voyages.  It  appeared  to  him  that 
if  there  was  nothing  else  he  could  do  for  Lydia,  it 
was  his  duty  to  talk  to  her.  He  found  another 
stool,  and  drew  it  up  within  easier  conversational 
distance.  "  Then  you  've  never  been  out  of  sight 
of  land  before  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lydia. 

"  That 's  very  curious  —  I  beg  your  pardon ',  I 
mean  you  must  find  it  a  great  novelty." 

"  Yes,  it 's  very  strange,"  said  the  girl,  seriously. 
"  It  looks  like  the  Flood.  It  seems  as  if  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  was  drowned." 

Dunham  glanced  round  the  vast  horizon.  "  It  u 
like  the  Flood.  And  it  has  that  quality,  which 
I've  often  noticed  in  sublime  things,  of  seeming  to 
be  for  this  occasion  only." 

"Yes?"  said  Lydia. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  It  seems  as  if  it  must 
be  like  a  fine  sunset,  and  would  pass  in  a  few  min- 
utes. Perhaps  we  feel  that  we  can't  endure  sub- 
limity long,  and  want  it  to  pass." 

"  I  could  look  at  it  forever,"  replied  Lydia. 

Dunham  turned  to  see  if  this  were  young-lady- 
lih  rapture,  but  perceived  that  she  was  affecting 
nothing.  He  liked  seriousness,  for  he  was,  with  a 
•great  deal  of  affectation  for  social  purposes,  a  very 
uncere  person.  His  heart  warmed  more  and  more 
to  the  lonely  girl;  to  be  talking  tc  her  seemed 


f6  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

after  all,  to  be  doing  very  little  for  hex,  and  he 
longed  to  be  of  service.  "  Have  you  explored  our 
little  wooden  world,  yet  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  pause. 

Lydia  paused  too.  "  The  ship  ?  "  she  asked 
presently.  "  No ;  I  've  only  been  in  the  cabin,  and 
here ;  and  this  morning,"  she  added,  consciea- 
tiously,  "  Thomas  showed  me  the  cook's  galley,  — 
the  kitchen." 

"  You  Ve  seen  more  than  I  have,"  said  Dunham. 
"  Would  n't  you  like  to  go  forward,  to  the  bow, 
and  see  how  it  looks  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  answered  Lydia,  "  I  would." 

She  tottered  a  little  in  gaining  her  feet,  and  the 
wind  drifted  her  slightness  a  step  or  two  aside. 
"  Won't  you  take  my  arm,  perhaps  ?  "  suggested 
Dunham. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Lydia,  "I  think  I  can  get 
along."  But  after  a  few  paces,  a  lurch  of  the  ship 
flung  her  against  Dunham's  side ;  he  caught  her 
hand,  and  passed  it  through  his  arm  without  protest 
from  her. 

"  Is  n't  it  grand  ? "  he  asked  triumphantly,  aa 
they  stood  at  the  prow,  and  rose  and  sank  with  the 
vessel's  careering  plunges.  It  was  no  gale,  but  only 
a  fair  wind  ;  the  water  foamed  along  the  ship's 
sides,  and,  as  her  bows  descended,  shot  forward  in 
hissing  jets  of  spray  ;  away  on  every  hand  flocked 
the  white  caps.  "You  had  better  keep  my  arm, 
fcere."  Lydia  did  so,  resting  her  disengaged  hand 
MI  the  bulwarks,  as  she  bent  over  a  little  on  that 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK.  77 

lide  to  watch  the  rush  of  the  sea.  "  It  really  seemi 
as  if  there  were  more  of  a  vie\v  here." 

44  It  does,  somehow,"  admitted  Lydia." 

"  Look  back  at  the  ship's  sails,"  said  Dunham. 
The  swell  and  press  of  the  white  canvas  seemed 
like  the  clouds  of  heaven  swooping  down  upon 
them  from  all  the  airy  heights.  The  sweet  wind 
beat  in  their  faces,  and  they  laughed  in  sympathy, 
as  they  fronted  it.  "  Perhaps  the  motion  is  a  little 
too  strong  for  you  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  Oh,  not  at  all ! "  cried  the  girl. 

He  had  done  something  for  her  by  bringing  her 
here,  and  he  hoped  to  do  something  more  by  taking 
her  away.  He  was  discomfited,  for  he  was  at  a  loss 
what  other  attention  to  offer.  Just  at  that  moment 
a  sound  made  itself  heard  above  the  whistling  of 
the  cordage  and  the  wash  of  the  sea,  which  caused 
Lydia  to  start  and  look  round. 

"Did  n't  you  think,"  she  asked,  "  that  you  heard 
hens?" 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Dunham.  "What  could  it 
have  been  ?  Let  us  investigate." 

He  led  the  way  back  past  the  forecastle  and  the 
cook's  galley,  and  there,  in  dangerous  proximity  to 
the  pots  and  frying  pans,  they  found  a  coop  with 
tome  dozen  querulous  and  meditative  fowl  in  it. 

44 1  heard  them  this  morning,"  said  Lydia. 
'*  They  seemed  to  wake  me  with  their  crowing,  and 
(  thought  —  I  was  at  home !  " 

44 1  'm  very  sorry,"  said  Dunham,  sympathetically. 


78  THE   LADY    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

He  wished  Stamford  were  there  to  take  shame  to 
himself  for  denying  sensibility  to  this  girl. 

The  cook,  smoking  a  pipe  at  the  door  of  his  gal- 
ley, said,  "  Dey  won't  trouble  you  much,  miss.  Dey 
don't  gen'ly  last  us  long,  and  I  '11  kill  de  roosters 
firtt." 

**  Oil,   come,    now ! "    protested    Dunham.      " 
would  n't  say  that !  "     The  cook  and  Lydia  stared 
at  him  in  equal  surprise. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  cook,  "  I  '11  kill  the  hen§ 
first,  den.  It  don't  make  any  difference  to  me 
which  I  kill.  I  dunno  but  de  hens  is  tenderer." 
He  smoked  in  a  bland  indifference. 

"  Oh,  hold  on  ! "  exclaimed  Dunham,  in  repeti- 
tion of  his  helpless  protest. 

Lydia  stooped  down  to  make  closei  acquaintance 
with  the  devoted  birds.  They  huddled  themselves 
away  from  her  in  one  corner  of  their  prison,  and 
talked  together  in  low  tones  of  grave  mistrust. 
u  Poor  things  !  "  she  said.  As  a  country  girl,  used 
to  the  practical  ends  of  poultry,  she  knew  as  well 
as  the  cook  that  it  was  the  fit  and  simple  destiny  of 
chickens  to  be  eaten,  sooner  or  later ;  and  it  must 
have  been  less  in  commiseration  of  their  fate  than 
in  self-pity  and  regret  for  the  scenes  they  recalled 
that  she  sighed.  The  hens  that  burrowed  yester- 
day under  the  lilacs  in  the  door-yard  ;  the  cock  that 
her  aunt  so  often  drove,  insulted  and  exclamatory 
at  the  head  of  his  harem,  out  of  forbidden  garden 
founds ;  the  social  groups  that  scratched  and  dea 


THE   LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  79 

canted  lazily  about  the  wide,  sunny  barn  doors;  the 
inxious  companies  seeking  their  favorite  perches, 
with  alarming  outcries,  in  the  dusk  of  summer 
evenings ;  the  sentinels  answering  each  other  from 
farm  to  farm  before  winter  dawns,  when  all  the 
hills  were  drowned  in  snow,  were  of  kindred  with 
these  hapless  prisoners. 

Dunham  was  touched  at  Lydia's  compassion. 
"  Would  you  like  —  would  you  like  to  feed  them  ?  " 
he  asked  by  a  happy  inspiration.  He  turned  to  the 
cook,  with  his  gentle  politeness  :  "  There  's  no  ob- 
jection to  our  feeding  them,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Laws,  no  !  "  said  the  cook.  "  Fats  'em  up." 
He  went  inside,  and  reappeared  with  a  pan  full  of 
scraps  of  meat  and  crusts  of  bread. 

"  Oh,  I  say  I  "  cried  Dunham.  "  Have  n't  you 
got  some  grain,  you  know,  of  some  sort ;  some  seeds, 
don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  They  will  like  this,"  said  Lydia,  while  the  cook 
stared  in  perplexity.  She  took  the  pan,  and  open- 
ing the  little  door  of  the  coop  flung  the  provision 
inside.  But  the  fowls  were  either  too  depressed  in 
spirit  to  eat  anything,  or  they  were  not  hungry ; 
they  remained  in  their  corner,  and  merely  fell  silent, 
us  if  a  new  suspicion  had  been  roused  in  their  un- 
happy breasts. 

"  Dey  '11  come  to  it,"  observed  the  cook. 

Dunham  felt  far  from  content,  and  regarded  the 
ooultry  with  silent  disappointment.  "  Are  yon  fond 
>f  pets  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  while. 


80  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOR. 

"  Yes,  I  used  to  have  pet  chickens  when  I  was  a 
little  thing." 

"You  ought  to  adopt  one  of  these,"  suggested 
Dunham.  "  That  white  one  is  a  pretty  creature." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  were 
Leghorn.  Leghorn  breed,"  she  added,  in  reply  to 
Dunham's  look  of  inquiry.  "  He 's  a  beauty." 

"  Let  me  get  him  out  for  you  a  moment !  "  cried 
the  young  man,  in  his  amiable  zeal.  Before  Lydia 
could  protest,  or  the  cook  interfere,  he  had  opened 
the  coop-door  and  plunged  his  arm  into  the  tumult 
which  his  manoeuvre  created  within.  He  secured 
the  cockerel,  and  drawing  it  forth  was  about  to 
offer  it  to  Lydia,  when  in  its  struggles  to  escape  it 
drove  one  of  its  spurs  into  his  hand.  Dunham  sud- 
denly released  it;  and  then  ensued  a  wild  chase 
for  its  recapture,  up  and  down  the  ship,  in  which  it 
had  every  advantage  of  the  young  man.  At  last  it 
sprang  upon  the  rail ;  he  put  out  his  hand  to  seize 
it,  when  it  rose  with  a  desperate  screech,  and  flew 
far  out  over  the  sea.  They  watched  the  suicide  till 
it  sank  exhausted  into  a  distant  white-cap. 

"  Dat  's  gone,"  said  the  cook,  philosophically. 
Dunham  looked  round.  Half  the  ship's  company, 
\larmed  by  his  steeple-chase  over  the  deck,  were 
there,  silently  agrin. 

Lydia  did  not  laugh.  When  he  asked,  still  with 
his  habitual  sweetness,  but  entirely  at  random, 
4  Shall  we  —  ah  —  go  below  ?  "  she  did  not  answer 
iefinitely,  and  did  not  go.  At  the  same  time  she 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK.  81 

teased  to  be  so  timidly  intangible  and  aloof  in  man- 
ner. She  began  to  talk  to  Dunham,  instead  of  let- 
ting him  talk  to  her  ;  she  asked  him  questions,  and 
listened  with  deference  to  what  he  said  on  such  mat- 
ters as  the  probable  length  of  the  voyage  and  the 
sort  of  weather  they  were  likely  to  have.  She  did 
not  take  note  of  his  keeping  his  handkerchief  wound 
round  his  hand,  nor  of  his  attempts  to  recur  to  the 
subject  of  his  mortifying  adventure.  When  they 
were  again  quite  alone,  the  cook's  respect  having 
been  won  back  through  his  ethnic  susceptibility 
to  silver,  she  remembered  that  she  must  go  to  her 
room. 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Staniford,  after  Dunham 
had  reported  the  whole  case  to  him,  "  she  treated 
your  hurt  vanity  as  if  you  had  been  her  pet  school- 
boy. She  lured  you  away  from  yourself,  and  got 
you  to  talking  and  thinking  of  other  things.  Lu- 
rella  is  deep,  I  tell  you.  What  consummate  tacti- 
cians the  least  of  women  are  I  It 's  a  pity  that  they 
have  to  work  so  often  in  such  dull  material  as  men , 
they  ought  always  to  have  women  to  operate  on. 
The  youngest  of  them  has  more  wisdom  in  human 
nature  than  the  sages  of  our  sex.  I  must  say,  Lu- 
rella  is  magnanimous,  too.  She  might  have  taken 
her  revenge  on  you  for  pitying  her  yesterday  when 
ihe  sat  in  that  warehouse  door  on  the  wharf.  It 
was  rather  fine  in  Lurella  not  to  do  it.  What  did 
the  say,  Dunham  ?  What  did  she  talk  about?  Did 
>he  want  to  know  ?  " 


82  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"No!"  shouted  Dunham.  "She  talked  verj 
well,  like  any  young  lady." 

"  Oh,  all  young  ladies  talk  well,  of  course.  But 
what  did  this  one  say  ?  What  did  she  do,  except 
suffer  a  visible  pang  of  homesickness  at  the  sight  of 
unattainable  poultry  ?  Come,  you  have  represented 
the  interview  with  Miss  Blood  as  one  of  great  brill- 
iancy." 

"  I  have  n't,"  said  Dunham.  "  I  have  done  ncfch 
ing  of  the  kind.  Her  talk  was  like  any  pleas;)  u\ 
talk;  it  was  refined  and  simple,  and  —  unobtru- 
sive." 

"  Tiiat  is,  it  was  in  no  way  remarkable,"  observed 
Staniford,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  expected  something 
better  of  Lurella ;  I  expected  something  salient. 
Well,  never  mind.  She 's  behaved  well  by  you, 
seeing  what  a  goose  you  had  made  of  yourself. 
She  behaved  like  a  lady,  and  I  Ve  noticed  that  she 
eats  with  her  fork.  It  often  happens  in  the  country 
that  you  find  the  women  practicing  some  of  the  arts 
of  civilization,  while  their  men  folk  are  still  sunk  in 
barbaric  uses.  Lurella,  I  see,  is  a  social  creature ; 
she  was  born  for  society,  as  you  were,  and  I  suppose 
you  will  be  thrown  a  good  deal  together.  We  're 
all  likely  to  be  associated  rather  familiarly,  under 
the  circumstances.  » But  I  wish  you  would  note 
down  in  your  mind  some  points  of  her  conversation 
.  'm  really  curious  to  know  what  a  girl  of  her  tradi- 
tions thinks  about  the  world  when  she  first  sees  it* 
Her  mind  must  be  in  most  respects  an  unbrokeu 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  88 

rril  Jerness.  She 's  had  schooling,  of  course,  and  she 
knows  her  grammar  and  algebra;  but  she  can't 
have  had  any  cultivation.  If  she  were  of  an  earner 
generation,  one  would  expect  to  find  something  bib- 
lical in  her ;  but  you  can't  count  upon  a  Puritanic 
Culture  now  among  our  country  folks." 

44  If  you  are  so  curious,"  said  Dunham,  "  whj 
don't  you  study  her  mind,  yourself  ?  " 

44  No,  no,  that  would  n't  do,"  Staniford  answered. 
44  The  light  of  your  innocence  upon  hers  is  inval- 
uable. I  can  understand  her  better  through  you. 
You  must  go  on.  I  will  undertake  to  make  your 
peace  with  Miss  Hibbard." 

The  young  men  talked  as  they  walked  the  deck 
and  smoked  in  the  starlight  They  were  wakeful 
after  their  long  nap  in  the  afternoon,  and  they 
walked  and  talked  late,  with  the  silences  that  old 
friends  can  permit  themselves.  Staniford  recurred 
fco  his  loss  of  money  and  his  Western  projects, 
which  took  more  definite  form  now  that  he  had 
placed  so  much  distance  between  himself  and  their 
fulfillment.  With  half  a  year  in  Italy  before  him, 
be  decided  upon  a  cattle-range  in  Colorado.  Then, 
44 1  should  like  to  know,"  he  said,  after  one  of  the 
pauses,  44  how  two  young  men  of  our  form  strike 
that  girl's  fancy.  I  have  n't  any  personal  curiosity 
about  her  impressions,  but  I  should  like  to  know, 
is  an  observer  of  the  human  race.  If  my  conject 
ires  are  right,  she  's  never  met  people  of  our  sort 
wjfore." 


64  THE  IADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  What  sort  of  men  has  she  been  associated 
with  ?  "  asked  Dunham. 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  quite  prepared  to  say.  I  take  it 
fchat  it  is  n't  exactly  the  hobbledehoy  sort.  She  has 
probably  looked  high,  —  as  far  up  as  the  clerk  in 
the  store.  He  has  taken  her  to  drive  in  a  buggy 
Saturday  afternoons,  when  he  put  on  his  ready- 
made  suit,  —  and  looked  very  well  in  it,  too ;  and 
they  Ve  been  at  picnics  together.  Or  may  be,  as 
ahe  's  in  the  school-teaching  line,  she 's  taken  some 
high-browed,  hollow-cheeked  high-school  principal 
for  her  ideal.  Or  it  is  possible  that  she  has  never 
had  attention  from  any  one.  That  is  apt  to  happen 
to  self -respectful  girls  in  rural  communities,  and  their 
beauty  doesn't  save  them.  Fellows,  as  they  call 
themselves,  like  girls  that  have  what  they  call  go, 
that  make  up  to  them.  Lurella  does  n't  seem  of 
that  kind ;  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you  were 
the  first  gentleman  who  had  ever  offered  her  his 
arm.  I  wonder  what  she  thought  of  you.  She  's 
acquainted  by  sight  with  the  ordinary  summer 
boarder  of  North  America;  they  penetrate  every- 
where, now ;  but  I  doubt  if  she  's  talked  with  them 
much,  if  at  all.  She  must  be  ignorant  of  our  world 
beyond  anything  we  can  imagine." 

"  But  how  do  you  account  for  her  being  so  weL 
dressed  ?  " 

"Oh,  that's  instinct.  You  find  it  everywhere, 
In  every  little  village  there  is  some  girl  who  knows 
mow  to  out-preen  all  the  others.  I  wonder,"  added 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  85 

Stamford,  in  a  more  deeply  musing  tone,  "if  she 
kept  from  laughing  at  you  out  of  good  feeling,  or 
if  she  was  merely  overawed  by  your  splendor." 

"  She  did  n't  laugh,"  Dunham  answered,  "  be- 
cause she  saw  that  it  would  have  added  to  my  an- 
noyance. My  splendor  had  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  Oh,  don't  underrate  your  splendor,  my  dear 
fellow  ! "  cried  Staniford,  with  a  caressing  ridicule 
that  he  often  used  with  Dunham.  "  Of  course,  I 
know  what  a  simple  and  humble  fellow  you  are , 
but  you  've  no  idea  how  that  exterior  of  youra 
might  impose  upon  the  agricultural  imagination; 
it  has  its  effect  upon  me,  in  my  pastoral  moods." 
Dunham  made  a  gesture  of  protest,  and  Staniford 
went  on  :  "  Country  people  have  queer  ideas  of  us, 
sometimes.  Possibly  Lurella  was  afraid  of  you, 
Think  of  that,  Dunham,  —  having  a  woman  afraid 
of  you,  for  once  in  your  life  I  Well,  hurry  up  your 
acquaintance  with  her,  Dunham,  or  I  shall  wear 
myself  out  in  mere  speculative  analysis.  I  haven't 
the  aplomb  for  studying  the  sensibilities  of  a  young 
lady,  and  catching  chickens  for  her,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a  novel  play  of  emotions.  I  thought  this  voy- 
age was  going  to  be  a  season  of  mental  quiet,  but 
having  a  young  lady  on  board  seems  to  forbid  that 
feind  of  repose.  I  shouldn't  mind  a  half  dozen, 
but  one  is  altogether  too  many.  Poor  little  thing  I 
[  say,  Dunham  I  There 's  something  rather  pretty 
*bout  having  her  with  us,  after  all,  is  n't  there  ?  It 
fives  a  certain  distinction  to  our  voyage.  We  shall 


$6  THE  LADY    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Dot  degenerate.  We  shall  shave  every  day,  wind 
juid  weather  permitting,  and  wear  our  best  things." 
They  talked  of  other  matters,  and  again  Staniford 
recurred  to  Lydia :  "  If  she  has  any  regrets  for  her 
mountain  home, — though  I  don't  see  why  she 
should  have,  —  I  hope  they  have  n't  kept  hei  awake. 
My  far-away  cot  on  the  plains  is  not  going  to  inter 
fere  with  my  slumbers." 

Staniford  stepped  to  the  ship's  side,  and  flung  the 
end  of  his  cigarette  overboard  ;  it  struct  a  red  soark 
amidst  the  lurid  phosphorescence  of  the  ubbles  tb*.l 
i wept  backward  from  the  vessel's  prov 


IX 

THE  weather  held  fine.  The  sun  shone,  and  th« 
tnendly  winds  blew  out  of  a  cloudless  heaven ;  by 
night  the  moon  ruled  a  firmament  powdered  with 
atars  of  multitudinous  splendor.  The  condition* 
inspired  Dunham  with  a  restless  fertility  of  inven- 
tion in  Lydia's  behalf.  He  had  heard  of  the  game 
of  shuffle-board,  that  blind  and  dumb  croquet,  with 
which  the  jaded  passengers  on  the  steamers  appease 
their  terrible  leisure,  and  with  the  help  of  the  ship's 
carpenter  he  organized  this  pastime,  and  played  it 
with  her  hour  after  hour,  while  Stamford  looked  on 
and  smoked  in  grave  observance,  and  Hicks  lurked 
at  a  distance,  till  Dunham  felt  it  on  his  kind  heart 
and  tender  conscience  to  invite  him  to  a  share  in 
the  diversion.  As  his  nerves  recovered  their  tone, 
Hicks  showed  himself  a  man  of  some  qualities  that 
Staniford  would  have  liked  in  another  man:  he  was 
imiable,  and  he  was  droll,  though  apt  to  turn  sulky 
if  Staniford  addressed  him,  which  did  not  oftep 
happen.  He  knew  more  than  Dunham  of  shuffle- 
board,  as  well  as  of  tossing  rings  of  rope  over  a  peg 
bet  up  a  certain  space  off  in  the  deck,  —  a  game 
which  they  eagerly  took  up  in  the  afternoon,  after 
pushing  about  the  flat  wooden  disks  all  the  morn- 
tig.  Most  of  the  talk  at  the  table  was  of  the  vary- 


88  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

ing  fortunes  of  the  players;  and  the  yarn  of  tli« 
story-teller  in  the  forecastle  remained  half-spun, 
while  the  sailors  off  watch  gathered  to  look  on,  and 
to  bet  upon  Lydia's  skill.  It  puzzled  Stamford  to 
make  out  whether  she  felt  any  strangeness  in  the 
situation,  which  she  accepted  with  so  much  appar- 
ent serenity.  Sometimes,  in  his  frequently  recur- 
ring talks  with  Dunham,  he  questioned  whether 
their  delicate  precautions  for  saving  her  feelings 
were  not  perhaps  thrown  away  upon  a  young  per- 
son who  played  shuffle-board  and  ring-toss  on  the 
deck  of  the  Aroostook  with  as  much  self-possession 
as  she  would  have  played  croquet  on  her  native 
turf  at  South  Bradfield. 

"  Their  ideal  of  propriety  up  country  is  very 
different  from  ours,"  he  said,  beginning  one  of  his 
long  comments.  "  I  don't  say  that  it  concerns  the 
conscience  more  than  ours  does;  but  they  think 
evil  of  different  things.  We  're  getting  European- 
ized,  —  I  don't  mean  you,  Dunham;  in  spite  of 
your  endeavors  you  will  always  remain  one  of  the 
most  hopelessly  American  of  our  species,  —  and  we 
have  our  little  borrowed  anxieties  about  the  free 
association  of  young  people.  They  have  none 
whatever ;  though  they  are  apt  to  look  suspiciously 
upon  married  people's  friendships  with  other  peo- 
ple's wives  and  husbands.  It's  quite  likely  that 
Lurella,  with  the  traditions  of  her  queer  world,  has 
not  imagined  anything  anomalous  in  her  position. 
She  may  realize  certain  inconveniences.  But  she 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  89 

must  see  great  advantages  in  it.  Poor  girl !  How 
ihe  must  be  rioting  on  the  united  devotion  of  cabin 
and  forecastle,  after  the  scanty  gallantries  of  a  hill 
town  peopled  by  elderly  unmarried  women  I  I  'm 
glad  of  it,  for  her  sake.  I  wonder  which  she 
really  prizes  most :  your  ornate  attentions,  s>r  the 
uncouth  homage  of  those  sailors,  who  are  always 
running  to  fetch  her  rings  and  blocks  when  she 
makes  a  wild  shot.  I  believe  I  don't  care  and 
shouldn't  disapprove  of  her  preference,  whichever 
it  was.'*  Stamford  frowned  before  he  added :  "But 
I  object  to  Hicks  and  his  drolleries.  It 's  impossi- 
ble for  th&t  little  wretch  to  think  reverently  of  a 
young  girl ;  it 's  shocking  to  see  her  treating  him 
as  if  he  were  a  gentleman."  Hicks's  behavior 
really  gave  no  grounds  for  reproach;  and  it  was 
only  his  moral  mechanism,  as  Staniford  called  the 
character  he  constructed  for  him,  which  he  could 
blame ;  nevertheless,  the  thought  of  him  gave  an 
oblique  cast  to  Staniford 's  reflections,  which  he  cut 
short  by  saying,  "  This  sort  of  worship  is  every 
woman's  due  in  girlhood  ;  but  I  suppose  a  fortnight 
of  it  will  make  her  a  pert  and  silly  coquette.  What 
loes  she  say  to  your  literature,  Dunham  ?  " 

Dunham  had  already  begun  to  lend  Lydia  books, 
—  his  own  and  Stamford's,  —  in  which  he  read 
fbloud  to  her,  and  chose  passages  for  her  admiration ; 
gut  he  was  obliged  to  report  that  she  had  rather  a 
passive  taste  in  literature.  She  seemed  to  like  what 
fte  said  was  good,  but  not  to  like  it  very  much, 


90  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

»r  to  care  greatly  for  reading;  or  else  she  had  nevei 
had  the  habit  of  talking  books.  He  suggested  thLi 
to  Stamford,  who  at  once  philosophized  it. 

"  Why,  I  rather  like  that,  you  know.  We  all 
read  in  such  a  literary  way,  now ;  we  don't  read 
simply  for  the  joy  or  profit  of  it ;  we  expect  to  talk 
about  it,  and  say  how  it  is  this  and  that ;  and  I  Va 
no  doubt  that  we  're  sub-consciously  harassed,  all 
the  time,  with  an  automatic  process  of  criticism. 
Now  Lnrella,  I  fancy,  reads  with  the  sense  of  the 
days  when  people  read  in  private,  and  not  in  pub- 
lic, as  we  do.  She  believes  that  your  serious  books 
are  all  true  ;  and  she  knows  that  my  novels  are  al] 
lies  —  that 's  what  some  excellent  Christians  would 
call  the  fiction  even  of  George  Eliot  or  of  Haw- 
thorne ,  she  would  be  ashamed  to  discuss  the  lives 
and  loves  of  heroes  and  heroines  who  never  existed. 
I  think  that 's  first-rate.  She  must  wonder  at  your 
distempered  interest  in  them.  If  one  could  get  at 
it,  I  suppose  the  fresh  wholesomeness  of  Lurella'e 
mind  would  be  something  delicious,  —  a  quality 
like  spring  water." 

He  was  one  of  those  men  who  cannot  rest  in  YQ- 
gard  to  people  they  meet  till  they  have  made  some 
effort  to  formulate  them.  He  liked  to  ticket  them 
off ;  bnt  when  he  could  not  classify  them,  he  re- 
mained content  with  his  mere  study  of  them.  Hia 
habit  was  one  that  does  not  promote  sympathy  with 
:>ne's  fellow  creatures.  He  confessed  even  that  it 
disposed  him  to  wish  for  their  less  acquaintance 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  91 

when  once  he  had  got  them  generalized ;  they  be- 
came then  collected  specimens.  Yet,  for  the  time 
being,  his  curiosity  in  them  gave  him  a  specious 
air  of  sociability.  He  lamented  the  insincerity 
which  this  involved,  but  he  could  not  help  it.  The 
next  novelty  in  character  was  as  irresistible  as  the 
last ;  he  sat  down  before  it  till  it  yielded  its  mean- 
ing, or  suggested  to  him  some  analogy  by  which  he 
could  interpret  it. 

With  this  passion  for  the  arrangement  and  dis- 
tribution of  his  neighbors,  it  was  not  long  before  he 
had  placed  most  of  the  people  on  board  in  what  he 
called  the  psychology  of  the  ship.  He  did  not  care 
that  they  should  fit  exactly  in  their  order.  He 
rather  preferred  that  they  should  have  idiosyncra- 
sies which  differentiated  them  from  their  species, 
and  he  enjoyed  Lydia's  being  a  little  indifferent 
about  books  for  this  and  for  other  reasons.  "  If 
she  were  literary,  she  would  be  like  those  vulgar 
little  persons  of  genius  in  the  magazine  stories. 
She  would  have  read  all  sorts  of  impossible  things 
up  in  her  village.  She  would  have  been  discovered 
by  some  aesthetic  summer  boarder,  who  had  hap- 
pened to  identify  her  with  the  gifted  Daisy  Dawn, 
and  she  would  be  going  out  on  the  aesthetic' s  money 
for  the  further  expansion  of  her  spirit  in  Europe 
Somebody  would  be  obliged  to  fall  in  love  with  her, 
»nd  she  would  sacrifice  her  career  for  a  man  whc 
was  her  inferior,  as  we  should  be  subtly  given  to 
inderstand  at  the  close.  I  think  it 's  going  to  be 


92  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

as  distinguished  by  and  by  not  to  like  books  as  it 
is  not  to  write  them.  Lurella  is  a  prophetic  soul ; 
»nd  if  there 's  anything  comforting  about  her,  it  'a 
her  being  so  merely  and  stupidly  pretty." 

"She  is  not  merely  and  stupidly  pretty  1"  re- 
torted Dunham.  "  She  never  does  herself  justice 
when  you  are  by.  She  can  talk  very  well,  and  on 
Borne  subjects  she  thinks  strongly." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  sorry  for  that  I "  said  Stamford. 
"  But  call  me  some  time  when  she  's  doing  herself 
justice." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  she  's  like  the  women  wo 
know.  She  does  n't  say  witty  things,  and  she 
has  n't  their  responsive  quickness ;  but  her  ideas 
are  her  own,  no  matter  how  old  they  are ;  and 
what  she  says  she  seems  to  be  saying  for  the  first 
time,  and  as  if  it  had  never  been  thought  out  be- 
fore." 

"  That  is  what  I  have  been  contending  for,"  said 
Stamford  ;  "  that  is  what  I  meant  by  spring  water. 
It  is  that  thrilling  freshness  which  charms  me  in 
Lurella."  He  laughed.  "  Have  you  converted  her 
to  your  spectacular  faith,  yet  ?  "  Dunham  blushed. 
"You  have  tried,"  continued  Staniford.  "Tell 
me  about  it  I " 

"  I  will  not  talk  with  you  on  such  matters,"  said 
Dunham,  "  till  you  know  how  to  treat  serious 
things  seriously." 

"I  shall  know  how  when  I  realize  that  they 
we  serious  with  you.  Well,  I  don't  object  to  a 


THE  LADy  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.  93 

woman's  thinking  strongly  on  religious  subjects : 
it 's  the  only  safe  ground  for  her  strong  thinking, 
and  even  there  she  had  better  feel  strongly.  Did 
you  succeed  in  convincing  her  that  Archbishop 
Laud  was  a  saint  incompris,  and  the  good  King 
Charles  a  blessed  martyr." 

Dunham  did  not  answer  till  he  had  choked  down 
some  natural  resentment.  He  had,  several  years 
earlier,  forsaken  the  pale  Unitarian  worship  of  his 
family,  because,  Staniford  always  said,  he  had  such 
a  feeling  for  color,  and  had  adopted  an  extreme  tint 
of  ritualism.  It  was  rumored  at  one  time,  before 
his  engagement  to  Miss  Hibbard,  that  he  was  go- 
ing to  unite  with  a  celibate  brotherhood ;  he  went 
regularly  into  retreat  at  certain  seasons,  to  the 
vast  entertainment  of  his  friend ;  and,  within  the 
bounds  of  good  taste,  he  was  a  zealous  propagan- 
dist of  his  faith,  of  which  he  had  the  practical  vir- 
tues in  high  degree.  "  I  hope,"  he  said  presently, 
"  that  I  know  how  to  respect  convictions,  even 
of  those  adhering  to  the  Church  in  Error." 

Staniford  laughed  again.  "  I  see  you  have  not 
converted  Lurella.  Well,  I  like  that  in  her,  too. 
I  wish  I  could  have  the  arguments,  pro  and  con. 
It  would  have  been  amusing.  I  suppose,"  he  pon- 
dered aloud,  "  that  she  is  a  Calvinist  of  the  Jeepes 
dye,  and  would  regard  me  as  a  lost  spirit  for  being 
outside  of  her  church.  She  would  look  down  upon 
me  from  one  height,  as  I  look  down  upon  her  from 
another.  And  really,  as  far  as  personal  satisfao- 


94  THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

tion  n  superiority  goes,  she  might  have  the  ad 
rantj,ge  of  me.  That 's  very  curious,  very  inter 
eeting." 

As  the  first  week  wore  away,  the  wonted  inci 
dents  of  a  sea  voyage  lent  their  variety  to  the  life 
on  board.  One  day  the  ship  ran  into  a  school  oi 
whales,  which  remained  heavily  thumping  and  loll- 
ing about  in  her  course,  and  blowing  jets  of  watef 
into  the  air,  like  so  many  breaks  in  garden  hose, 
Stamford  suggested.  At  another  time  some  flying- 
fish  came  on  board.  The  sailors  caught  a  dolphin, 
and  they  promised  a  shark,  by  and  by.  All  these 
things  were  turned  to  account  for  the  young  girl's 
amusement,  as  if  they  had  happened  for  her.  The 
dolphin  died  that  she  might  wonder  and  pity  his 
beautiful  death ;  the  cook  fried  her  some  of  the 
flying-fish ;  some  one  was  on  the  lookout  to  detect 
even  porpoises  for  her.  A  sail  in  the  offing  won 
the  discoverer  envy  when  he  pointed  it  out  to  her ; 
a  steamer,  celebrity.  The  captain  ran  a  point  out 
of  his  course  to  speak  to  a  vessel,  that  she  might 
be  able  to  tell  what  speaking  a  ship  at  sea  was 
Like. 

At  table  the  stores  which  the  young  men  had 
laid  in  for  private  use  became  common  luxuries, 
and  she  fared  sumptuously  every  day  upon  dainties 
which  she  supposed  were  supplied  by  the  ship, — 
delicate  jellies  and  canned  meats  and  syruped  fruits ; 
and,  if  she  wondered  at  anything,  she  must  hayp 
wondered  at  the  scrupulous  abstinence  with  which 


THE  LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOCK.  95 

Captain  Jenness,  seconded  by  Mr.  Watterson,  re« 
fused  the  luxuries  which  his  bounty  provided  them, 
and  at  the  constancy  with  which  Staniford  declined 
some  of  these  dishes,  and  Hicks  declined  others. 
Shortly  after  the  latter  began  more  distinctly  to  be 
tolerated,  he  appeared  one  day  on  deck  with  a 
steamer-chair  in  his  hand,  and  offered  it  to  Lyd- 
La's  use,  where  she  sat  on  a  stool  by  the  bulwark. 
After  that,  as  she  reclined  in  this  chair,  wrapped 
in  her  red  shawl,  and  provided  with  a  book  or 
Boms  sort  of  becoming  handiwork,  she  was  even 
more  picturesquely  than  before  the  centre  about 
which  the  ship's  pride  and  chivalrous  sentiment  re- 
volved. They  were  Americans,  and  they  knew  how 
to  worship  a  woman. 

Staniford  did  not  seek  occasions  to  please  and 
amuse  her,  as  the  others  did.  When  they  met,  as 
they  must,  three  times  a  day,  at  table,  he  took  his 
part  in  the  talk,  and  now  and  then  addressed  her 
ft  perfunctory  civility.  He  imagined  that  she  dis- 
liked him,  and  he  interested  himself  in  imaginicg 
the  ignorant  grounds  of  her  dislike.  "  A  woman," 
he  said,  "  must  always  dislike  some  one  in  com- 
pany ;  it 's  usually  another  woman  ;  as  there  's  none 
on  board,  I  accept  her  enmity  with  meekness." 
Dunham  wished  to  persuade  him  that  he  was  mis- 
taken. "  Don't  try  to  comfort  me,  Dunham,"  he 
replied.  "  I  find  a  pleasure  in  being  detested  which 
\s  inconceivable  to  your  amiable  bosom." 

Dunham  turned  to  go  below,  from  where  they 


9i  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

stood  at  the  head  of  the  cabin  stairs.  Stamford 
looked  round,  and  saw  Lydia,  whom  they  had  kept 
from  coming  up;  she  must  have  heard  him.  He 
took  his  3igar  from  his  mouth,  and  caught  up  a 
stool,  which  he  placed  near  the  ship's  side,  where 
Lydia  usually  sat,  and  without  waiting  for  her  con- 
currence got  a  stool  for  himself,  and  sat  down  with 
her. 

"Well,  Miss  Blood,"  he  said,  "it's  Saturday 
.afternoon  at  last,  and  we  're  at  the  end  of  our  first 
week.  Has  it  seemed  very  long  to  you  ?  " 

Lydia's  color  was  bright  with  consciousness,  but 
the  glance  she  gave  Staniford  showed  him  looking 
tranquilly  and  honestly  at  her.  "  Yes,"  she  said, 
"  it  has  seemed  long." 

"  That 's  merely  the  strangeness  of  everything. 
There 's  nothing  like  local  familiarity  to  make  the 
time  pass,  —  except  monotony ;  and  one  gets  both 
at  sea.  Next  week  will  go  faster  than  this,  and 
we  shall  all  be  at  Trieste  before  we  know  it.  Of 
course  we  shall  have  a  storm  or  two,  and  that  will 
retard  us  in  fact  as  well  as  fancy.  But  you  would 
w't  feel  that  you  'd  been  at  sea  if  you  had  n't  had  a 
itorm." 

He  knew  that  his  tone  was  patronizing,  but  he 
Lad  theorized  the  girl  so  much  with  a  certain  slight 
in  his  mind  that  he  was  not  able  at  once  to  get  the 
fcon«  which  he  usually  took  towards  women.  This 
•light  not,  indeed,  have  pleased  some  women  any 
better  than  patronage :  it  mocked  while  it  caressed 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  97 

ill  their  little  pretenses  and  artificialities ;  he  ad- 
dressed them  as  if  they  must  be  in  the  joke  of 
themselves,  and  did  not  expect  to  be  taken  seri- 
ously. At  the  same  time  he  liked  them  greatly, 
and  would  not  on  any  account  have  had  the  silliest 
of  them  different  from  what  she  was.  He  did  not 
seek  them  as  Dunham  did ;  their  society  was  not  a 
matter  of  life  or  death  with  him ;  but  he  had  an 
elder-brotherly  kindness  for  the  whole  sex. 

Lydia  waited  awhile  for  him  to  say  something 
more,  but  he  added  nothing,  and  she  observed,  with 
a  furtive  look  :  "  I  presume  you  Ve  seen  some  very 
severe  storms  at  sea." 

"  No,"  Staniford  answered,  "  I  have  n't,  I  V<» 
been  over  several  times,  but  I  Ve  never  seen  any- 
thing alarming.  I  Ve  experienced  the  ordinary 
seasickening  tempestuousness." 

"Have  you  —  have  you  ever  been  in  Italy?" 
asked  Lydia,  after  another  pause. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  twice ;  I  'm  very  fond  of  Italy." 
He  spoke  of  it  in  a  familiar  tone  that  might  well 
have  been  discouraging  to  one  of  her  total  unac- 
quaintance  with  it.  Presently  he  added  of  his  own 
motion,  looking  at  her  with  his  interest  in  her  as  a 
curious  study,  "  You  're  going  to  Venice,  I  think 
Mr.  Dunham  told  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia. 

44  Well,  I  think  it 's  rather  a  pity  that  you  should 
&!<t  arrive  there  directly,  without  the  interposition 
>f  Trieste."  He  scanned  her  yet  more  closely,  bu* 


98  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

with  a  sort  of  absence  in  his  look,  as  if  he  addressed 
some  ideal  of  her. 

44  Why  ? "  asked  Lydia,  apparently  pushed  to 
some  self-assertion  by  this  way  of  being  looked  and 
talked  at. 

"It's  the  strangest  place  in  the  world,"  said 
Stamford  ;  and  then  he  mused  again.  "  But  I  sup 
pose"  —  He  did  not  go  on,  and  the  word  fell  again 
to  Lydia. 

44 1  'm  going  to  visit  my  aunt,  who  is  staying 
there.  She  was  where  I  live,  last  summer,  and  she 
told  us  about  it.  But  I  could  n't  seem  to  under- 
stand it." 

"  No  one  can  understand  it,  without  seeing  it." 

44 1  've  read  some  descriptions  of  it,"  Lydia  vent- 
ured. 

44  They  're  of  no  use,  —  the  books." 

44  Is  Trieste  a  strange  place,  too  ?  " 

44  It 's  strange,  as  a  hundred  other  places  are,  •— 
and  it 's  picturesque ;  but  there  's  only  one  Ven- 

44 1  'm  afraid  sometimes,"  she  faltered,  as  if  hig 
itanner  in  regard  to  this  peculiar  place  had  been 
hopelessly  exclusive,  44  that  it  will  be  almost  too 
strange." 

44  Oh,  that  's  another  matter,"  said  Staniford. 
*I  confess  I  should  be  rather  curious  to  know 
whether  you  liked  Venice.  I  like  it,  but  I  can  im- 
agine myself  sympathizing  with  people  who  de- 
'«sted  it,  —  if  they  said  so.  Let  me  see  what  wiL 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  99 

give  you  some  idea  of  it.  Do  you  know  Boston 
well?" 

"  No ;  I  Ve  only  been  there  twice,"  Lydia  ao- 
knowledged. 

"  Then  you  Ve  never  seen  the  Back  Bay  by 
night  from  the  Long  Bridge.  Well,  let  me  see"  — 

"  I  'm  afraid,"  interposed  Lydia,  "  that  I  Ve  no** 
been  about  enough  for  you  to  give  me  an  idea  from 
other  places.  We  always  go  to  Greenfield  to  do 
our  trading ;  and  I  Ve  been  to  Keene  and  Spring- 
field a  good  many  times." 

"  I  'm  sorry  to  say  I  have  n't,"  said  Staniford. 
"  But  I  '11  tell  you :  Venice  looks  like  an  inun- 
dated town.  If  you  could  imagine  those  sunset 
clouds  yonder  turned  marble,  you  would  have  Ven- 
ice as  she  is  at  sunset.  You  must  first  think  of  the 
sea  when  you  try  to  realize  the  place.  If  you  don't 
find  the  sea  too  strange,  you  won't  find  Venice  so." 

"  I  wish  it  would  ever  seem  half  as  home-like  !  " 
cried  the  girl. 

44  Then  you  find  the  ship  —  I  'm  glad  you  find 
the  ship  —  home-like,"  said  Staniford,  tentatively. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  everything  is  so  convenient  and  pleas- 
ant. It  seems  sometimes  as  if  I  had  always  lived 
here." 

"  Well,  that 's  very  nice,"  assented  Staniford, 
rather  blankly.  "  Some  people  feel  a  little  queei 
at  sea  —  in  the  beginning.  And  you  have  n't  — 
at  all  ?  "  He  could  not  help  this  leading  question 
f et  he  knew  its  meanness,  and  felt  remorse  for  it. 


IOC  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Oh,  I  did,  at  first,"  responded  the  girl,  but 
*ent  no  farther;  and  Stamford  was  glad  of  it. 
After  all,  why  should  he  care  to  know  what  was  in 
her  mind  ? 

"  Captain  Jenness,"  he  merely  said,  "  understand! 
making  people  at  home." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  assented  Lydia.  "  And  Mr. 
Watterson  is  very  agreeable,  and  Mr.  Mason.  I 
didn't  suppose  sailors  were  so.  What  soft,  mild 
voices  they  have  I  " 

"  That 's  the  speech  of  most  of  the  Down  East 
coast  people." 

"  Is  it  ?  I  like  it  better  than  our  voices.  Our 
voices  are  so  sharp  and  high,  at  home." 

"  It 's  hard  to  believe  that,"  said  Stamford,  with 
A  smile. 

Lydia  looked  at  him.  "  Oh,  I  was  n't  born  in 
South  Bradfield.  I  was  ten  years  old  when  I  went 
there  to  live." 

"  Where  were  you  born,  Miss  Blood  ?  "  lie  asked. 

"  In  California.  My  father  had  gone  out  for  his 
health,  but  he  died  there." 

"Oh!"  said  Staniford.  He  had  a  book  in  hii 
hand,  and  he  began  to  scribble  a  little  sketch  ol 
Lydia's  pose,  on  a  fly-leaf.  She  looked  round  and 
law  it.  "  You  've  detected  me,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  n't 
any  right  to  keep  your  likeness,  now.  I  must  make 
you  a  present  of  this  work  of  art,  Miss  Blood.' 
He  finished  the  sketch  with  some  ironical  flourishei 
•nd  made  as  if  to  tear  out  the  leaf. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  101 

•'  Oh  I "  cried  Lydia,  simply,  "  you  will  spoil  the 
book!" 

"Then  the  book  shall  go  with  the  picture,  ii 
you  '11  let  it,"  said  Stamford. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  give  it  to  me  ?  "  she  aske* 
with  surprise. 

"  That  was  my  munificent  intention.  I  want  to 
write  your  name  in  it.  What 's  the  initial  of  you 
first  name,  Miss  Blood?" 

"  L,  thank  you,"  said  Lydia. 

Staniford  gave  a  start.  "  No  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
It  seemed  a  fatality. 

"  My  name  is  Lydia,"  persisted  the  girl.  "  What 
letter  should  it  begin  with  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  oh,  I  knew  Lydia  began  with  an  L," 
stammered  Staniford,  "  but  I  —  I  —  I  thought  your 
first  name  was  "  — 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Lydia  sharply. 

"I  don't  know.     Lily,"  he  answered  guiltily. 

"Lily  Blood!"  cried  the  girl.  "Lydia  is  bad 
enough ;  but  Lily  Blood  I  They  could  n't  have  been 
such  fools ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Of  course  not.  I  don't 
know  how  I  could  have  got  the  idea.  It  was  one 
of  those  impressions — hallucinations  "  —  Staniford 
found  himself  in  an  attitude  of  lying  excuse  towards 
tfie  simple  girl,  over  whom  he  had  been  lording  it 
in  satirical  fancy  ever  since  he  had  seen  her,  and 
oaeakly  anxious  that  she  should  not  be  vexed  with 
lirn.  He  began  to  laugh  at  his  predicament,  and 


102       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

she  smiled  at  his  mistake.     "  What  is  the  date  ?  ' 
he  asked. 

"  The  15th,"  she  said ;  and  he  wrote  under  tha 
iketch,  Lydia  Blood.  Ship  Aroostook,  August  15, 
1874,  and  handed  it  to  her,  with  a  bow  surcharged 
with  gravity. 

She  took  it,  and  regarded  the  picture  without 
comment. 

"Ah!"  said  Stamford,  "I  see  that  you  know 
how  bad  my  sketch  is.  You  sketch." 

44  No,  I  don't  know  how  to  draw,"  replied  Lydia. 

44  You  criticise." 

"No." 

44  So  glad,"  said  Staniford.  He  began  to  like  this. 
A.  young  man  must  find  pleasure  in  sitting  alone 
near  a  pretty  young  girl,  aifc.  talking  with  her  about 
herself  and  himself,  no  matter  how  plain  and  dull 
her  speech  is  ;  and  Staniford,  though  he  found  Lydia 
as  blankly  unresponsive  as  might  be  to  the  flatter- 
ing irony  of  his  habit,  amused  himself  in  realizing 
that  here  suddenly  he  was  almost  upon  the  terms  of 
window-seat  flirtation  with  a  girl  whom  lately  he 
had  treated  with  perfect  indifference,  and  just  now 
with  fatherly  patronage.  The  situation  had  some- 
thing more  even  than  the  usual  window-seat  advan- 
tages ;  it  had  qualities  as  of  a  common  shipwreck,  of 
their  being  cast  away  on  a  desolate  island  together. 
He  felt  more  than  ever  that  he  must  protect  this 
flelpless  loveliness,  since  it  had  begun  to  please  his 
pagination.  44  You  don't  criticise,"  he  said.  4t  If 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       108 

that  because  you  are  so  amiable?    I'm  sure  you 
could,  if  you  would." 

44  No,"  returned  Lydia ;  "  I  don't  really  know. 
But  I  've  often  wished  I  did  know." 

"  Then  you  did  n't  teach  drawing,  in  your 
school?" 

"How  did  you  know  I  had  a  school?"  asked 
Lydia  quickly. 

He  disliked  to  confess  his  authority,  because  he 
disliked  the  authority,  but  he  said,  "  Mr.  Hicks 
told  us." 

"  Mr.  Hicks  1  "  Lydia  gave  a  little  frown  as  of 
instinctive  displeasure,  which  gratified  Staniford. 

"  Yes ;  the  cabin-boy  told  him.  You  see,  we  are 
dreadful  gossips  on  the  Aroostook,  —  though  there 
are  so  few  ladies  "  —  It  had  slipped  from  him,  but 
it  seemed  to  have  no  personal  slant  for  Lydia. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  told  Thomas,"  she  said.  "  No ; 
it 's  only  a  country  school.  Once  I  thought  I 
should  go  down  to  the  State  Normal  School,  and 
•tudy  drawing  there  ;  but  I  never  did.  Are  you 
—  are  you  a  painter,  Mr.  Staniford?  " 

He  could  not  recollect  that  she  had  pronounced 
bis  name  before  ;  he  thought  it  came  veiy  winningly 
irom  her  lips.  "  No,  I  'm  not  a  painter.  I  'm  not 
anything."  He  hesitated ;  then  he  added  recklessly, 
•  I'm  a  farmer." 

"A  farmer?"  Lydia  looked  incredulous,  but 
grave. 

"  Yes ;  I  'm    a  horny-handed   son   of  the  soii 


104       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

I  'm  a  cattle-farmer  ;  I  'm  a  sheep-farmer  ;  I  don't 
know  which.  One  day  I  'm  the  one,  and  the  next 
day  I  'm  the  other."  Lydia  looked  mystified,  and 
Staniford  continued  :  "  I  mean  that  I  have  no  pro- 
fession, and  that  sometimes  I  think  of  going  into 
farming,  out  West.'* 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

**  How  should  I  like  it  ?  Give  me  an  opinicmi 
Miss  Blood." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  You  would  never  have  dreamt  that  I  was  a 
farmer,  would  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  should  n't,"  said  Lydia,  honestly.  "  It '« 
very  hard  work." 

"  And  I  don't  look  fond  of  hard  work  ?  " 

"I  did  n't  say  that." 

"  And  I  've  no  right  to  press  you  for  your  mean- 

bg." 

"  What  I  meant  was  —  I  mean  —  Perhaps  if  you 
had  never  tried  it  you  did  n't  know  what  very  hard 
work  it  was.  Some  of  the  summer  boarders  used 
to  think  our  farmers  had  easy  times." 

"  I  never  was  a  summer  boarder  of  that  descrip- 
tion. I  know  that  farming  is  hard  work,  and  I  'na 
going  into  it  because  I  dislike  it.  What  do  yon 
think  of  that  as  a  form  of  self-sacrifice  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  any  one  should  sacrifice  him- 
ielf  uselessly." 

"  You  don't  ?  You  have  very  little  conception  oi 
martyrdom.  Do  you  like  teaching  school  ?  " 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       10£ 

"  No,"  said  Lydia  promptly. 

"  Why  do  you  teach,  then  ? "  Staniford  had 
blundered.  He  knew  why  she  taught,  and  he  fel1 
instantly  that  he  had  hurt  her  pride,  more  sensitive 
than  that  of  a  more  sophisticated  person,  who 
would  have  had  no  scruple  in  saying  that  she  did 
it  because  she  was  poor.  He  tried  to  retrieve  him- 
self. "  Of  course,  I  understand  that  school-teaching 
is  useful  self-sacrifice."  He  trembled  lest  she 
should  invent  some  pretext  for  leaving  him;  he 
could  not  afford  to  be  left  at  a  disadvantage.  "  But 
do  you  know,  I  would  no  more  have  taken  you  for  a 
teacher  than  you  me  for  a  farmer." 

"  Yes? "said  Lydia. 

He  could  not  tell  whether  she  was  appeased  or 
not,  and  he  rather  feared  not.  "  You  don't  ask 
why.  And  I  asked  you  why  at  once." 

Lydia  laughed.     "Well,  why?" 

"  Oh,  that 's  a  secret.  I  '11  tell  you  one  of  thew 
days."  He  had  really  no  reason ;  he  said  this  to 
gain  time.  He  was  always  honest  in  his  talk  with 
men,  but  not  always  with  women. 

"  I  suppose  I  look  very  young,"  said  Lydia.  M I 
tised  to  be  afraid  of  the  big  boys." 

"If  the  boys  were  big  enough,"  interposed  Stan- 
tfurd,  "  they  must  have  been  afraid  of  you." 

Lydia  said,  as  if  she  had  not  understood,  "  I  had 
aard  work  to  get  my  certificate.  But  I  wa»  oldei 
tham  I  looked." 

*'  That  is   much    better,"   remarked   Staniford, 


106  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

4  than  being  younger  than  you  look.  I  am  twenty- 
eight,  and  people  take  me  for  thirty-four.  I  'm  a 
prematurely  middle-aged  man.  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me,  Miss  Blood,  a  little  about  South  Bradfield, 
I  've  been  trying  to  make  out  whether  I  was  ever 
there.  I  tramped  nearly  everywhere  when  I  wai  ft 
student.  What  sort  of  people  are  they  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  very  nice  people,"  said  Lydia. 

"Do  you  like  them?" 

"I  never  thought  whether  I  did.  They  are 
nearly  all  old.  Their  children  have  gone  away ; 
they  don't  seem  to  live ;  they  are  just  staying. 
When  I  first  came  there  I  was  a  little  girl.  One 
day  I  went  into  the  grave-yard  and  counted  the 
stones ;  there  were  three  times  as  many  as  there 
were  living  persons  in  the  village." 

"  I  think  I  know  the  kind  of  place,"  said  Stam- 
ford. "  I  suppose  you  're  not  very  homesick  ?  " 

"  Not  for  the  place,"  answered  Lydia,  evasively. 

"  Of  course,"  Stamford  hastened  to  add,  "  yon 
miss  your  own  family  circle."  To  this  she  made  no 
reply.  It  is  the  habit  of  people  bred  like  her  to 
remain  silent  for  want  of  some  sort  of  formulated 
eomment  upon  remarks  to  which  they  assent. 

Staniford  fell  into  a  musing  mood,  which  was 
without  visible  embarrassment  to  the  young  girl, 
•vho  must  have  been  inured  to  much  severer  si- 
«nces  in  the  society  of  South  Bradfield.  He  re- 
mained staring  at  her  throughout  his  reverie,  which 
IF  fact  related  to  her.  He  was  thinking  what  sort 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AflOOSTOOR.  107 

rt  an  old  maid  she  would  have  become  if  she  had 
remained  in  that  village.  He  fancied  elements  of 
hardness  and  sharpness  in  her  which  would  have 
asserted  themselves  as  the  joyless  years  went  on, 
Like  the  bony  structure  of  her  face  as  the  softness 
of  youth  left  it.  She  was  saved  from  that,  what- 
ever was  to  be  her  destiny  in  Italy.  From  South 
Bradfield  to  Venice,  —  what  a  prodigious  transi- 
tion I  It  seemed  as  if  it  must  transfigure  her. 
"  Miss  Blood,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  wish  I  could  be 
with  you  when  you  first  see  Venice  !  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

Even  the  interrogative  comment,  with  the  rising 
inflection,  could  not  chill  his  enthusiasm.  "It  is 
really  the  greatest  sight  in  the  world." 

Lydia  had  apparently  no  comment  to  make  on 
this  fact.  She  waited  tranquilly  a  while  before  she 
said,  "My  father  used  to  talk  about  Italy  to  me 
when  I  was  little.  He  wanted  to  go.  My  mother 
said  afterwards  —  after  she  had  come  home  with 
me  to  South  Bradfield  —  that  she  always  believed 
he  would  have  lived  if  he  had  gone  there.  He  had 
consumption." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Staniford  softly.  Then  he  added, 
with  the  tact  of  his  sex,  "  Miss  Blood,  you  must  n't 
take  cold,  sitting  here  with  me.  This  wind  is 
ihilly.  Shall  I  go  below  and  get  you  some  more 

?M 

*•  No,  thank  you,"  said  Lydia ;  "  I  believe  I  will 
$o  down,  now.*' 


108  THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

She  went  below  to  her  room,  and  then  came  out 
into  the  cabin  with  some  sewing  at  which  she  sat 
and  stitched  by  the  lamp.  The  captain  was  writ- 
ing in  his  log-book ;  Dunham  and  Hicks  were  play- 
ing checkers  together.  Stamford,  from  a  corner  of 
a  locker,  looked  musingly  upon  this  curious  familj 
circle.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  its  occupa- 
tions had  struck  him  oddly.  Sometimes  when  they 
were  all  there  together,  Dunham  read  aloud.  Hicks 
knew  tricks  of  legerdemain  which  he  played  clev- 
erly. The  captain  told  some  very  good  stories, 
and  led  off  in  the  laugh.  Lydia  always  sewed  and 
listened.  She  did  not  seem  to  find  herself  strangely 
placed,  and  her  presence  characterized  all  that  was 
said  and  done  with  a  charming  innocence.  As  a 
bit  of  life,  it  was  as  pretty  as  it  was  quaint. 

"  Really,"  Staniford  said  to  Dunham,  as  they 
turned  in,  that  night,  "  she  has  domesticated  us." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Dunham  with  enthusiasm ; 
"  is  n't  she  a  nice  girl  ?  " 

"  She  's  intolerably  passive.  Or  not  passive, 
either.  She  says  what  she  thinks,  but  she  does  n't 
Beem  to  have  thought  of  many  things.  Did  she 
ever  tell  you  about  her  father  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dunham. 

"  I  mean  about  his  dying  of  consumption  ?  " 

"  No,  she  never  spoke  of  him  to  me.    Was  he  "  — 

"  Um.  It  appears  that  we  have  been  upon  terms 
rf  confidence,  then."  Staniford  paused,  with  one 
boot  in  his  hand.  "  I  should  never  have  thought 
it." 


THE  LADY  OP   THE  AROOSTOOK.  109 

44  What  was  her  father  ?  "  asked  Dunham. 

41  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know.  I  did  n't  seem 
to  get  beyond  elemental  statements  of  intimate  fact 
with  her.  He  died  in  California,  where  she  was 
born ;  and  he  always  had  a  longing  to  go  to  Italy, 
That  was  rather  pretty." 

44  It 's  very  touching,  I  think." 

44  Yes,  of  course.  We  might  fancy  this  about 
Lurella :  that  she  has  a  sort  of  piety  in  visiting  the 
scenes  that  her  father  wished  to  visit,  and  that  — 
Well,  anything  is  predicable  of  a  girl  who  says  so 
little  and  looks  so  much.  She's  certainly  very 
handsome ;  and  I  'm  bound  to  say  that  her  room 
could  not  have  been  better  than  her  company,  to 
fer." 


THE  dress  that  Lydia  habitually  wore  was  one 
which  her  aunt  Maria  studied  from  the  costume  oi 
A  summer  boarder,  who  had  spent  a  preceding  sum- 
mer at  the  sea-shore,  and  who  found  her  yachting- 
dress  perfectly  adapted  to  tramping  over  the  South 
Bradfield  hills.  Thus  reverting  to  its  original  use 
on  shipboard,  the  costume  looked  far  prettier  on 
Lydia  than  it  had  on  the  summer  boarder  from 
whose  unconscious  person  it  had  been  plagiarized. 
It  was  of  the  darkest  blue  flannel,  and  was  fitly  set 
off  with  those  bright  ribbons  at  the  throat  which 
women  know  how  to  dispose  there  according  to 
their  complexions.  One  day  the  bow  was  scarlet, 
and  another  crimson  ;  Staniford  did  not  know  which 
was  better,  and  disputed  the  point  in  vain  with 
Dunham.  They  all  grew  to  have  a  taste  in  such 
matters.  Captain  Jenness  praised  her  dress  out- 
right, and  said  that  he  should  tell  his  girls  about  it. 
Lydia,  who  had  always  supposed  it  was  a  walking 
costume,  remained  discreetly  silent  when  the  young 
men  recognized  its  nautical  character.  She  enjoyed 
its  success  ;  she  made  some  little  changes  in  the  hat 
•he  wore  with  it,  which  met  the  approval  of  the 
3abm  family ;  and  she  tranquilly  kept  her  black 
ulk  in  reserve  for  Sunday.  She  came  out  to  break- 
fast in  it  and  it  swept  the  narrow  spaces,  as  she 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  Ill 

emerged  from  her  state-room,  with  so  rich  and  deep 
a  murmur  that  every  one  looked  up.  She  sustained 
their  united  glance  with  something  tenderly  depre« 
catory  and  appealingly  conscious  in  her  manner, 
much  as  a  very  sensitive  girl  in  some  new  finery 
meets  the  eyes  of  her  brothers  when  she  does  not 
know  whether  to  cry  or  laugh  at  what  they  will  say. 
Thomas  almost  dropped  a  plate.  "  Goodness  !  "  he 
said,  helplessly  expressing  the  public  sentiment  in 
regard  to  a  garment  of  which  he  alone  had  been  in 
the  secret.  No  doubt  it  passed  his  fondest  dreams 
of  its  splendor ;  it  fitted  her  as  the  sheath  of  the 
flower  fits  the  flower. 

Captain  Jenness  looked  hard  at  her,  but  waited 
a  decent  season  after  saying  grace  before  offering 
his  compliment,  which  he  did  in  drawing  the  carv- 
ing-knife slowly  across  the  steel.  "Well,  Miss 
Blood,  that 's  right !  "  Lydia  blushed  richly,  and 
the  young  men  made  their  obeisances  across  the 
table. 

The  flushes  and  pallors  chased  each  other  over 
her  face,  and  the  sight  of  her  pleasure  in  being 
beautiful  charmed  Stamford.  "If  she  were  used  to 
worship  she  would  have  taken  our  adoration  more 
brrogantly,"  he  said  to  his  friend  when  they  went 
on  deck  after  breakfast.  "  I  can  place  her ;  but 
one's  circumstance  does  n't  always  account  for  one 
in  America,  and  I  can't  make  out  yet  whether  she  'a 
ever  been  praised  for  being  pretty.  Some  of  our 
Uill-country  people  would  have  felt  like  hushing  up 


112       THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOO 

her  beauty,  as  almost  sinful,  and  some  would  hav€ 
gone  down  before  it  like  Greeks.  I  can't  tell 
whether  she  knows  it  all  or  not ;  but  if  you  sup- 
pose her  unconscious  till  now,  it 's  pathetic.  And 
black  silks  must  be  too  rare  in  her  life  not  to  be 
celebrated  by  a  high  tumult  of  inner  satisfaction. 
I  'm  glad  we  bowed  down  to  the  new  dress." 

"Yes,"  assented  Dunham,  with  an  uneasy  ab- 
sence; "but  —  Staniford,  I  should  like  to  propose 
to  Captain  Jenness  our  having  service  this  morning. 
It  is  the  eleventh  Sunday  after  "  — 

"Ah,  yes  I"  said  Stamford.  "It  is  Sunday, 
is  n't  it  ?  I  thought  we  had  breakfast  rather  later 
than  usual.  All  over  the  Christian  vorld,  on  land 
and  sea,  there  is  this  abstruse  relation  between  a 
late  breakfast  and  religious  observances." 

Dunham  looked  troubled.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't 
talk  that  way,  Staniford,  and  I  hope  you  won't  say 
anything  "— — 

"  To  interfere  with  your  proposition  ?  My  dear 
fellow,  I  am  at  least  a  gentleman." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Dunham,  gratefully. 

Staniford  even  went  himself  to  the  captain  with 
Dunham's  wish ;  it  is  true  the  latter  assumed  the 
more  disagreeable  part  of  proposing  the  matter  to 
Hicks,  who  gave  a  humorous  assent,  as  one  might 
to  a  joke  of  doubtful  feasibility. 

Dunham  gratified  both  his  love  for  social  man 
itgement  and  his  zeal  for  his  church  in  this  organ! 
lation  of  worship ;  and  when  all  hands  were  called 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       118 

ait,  and  stood  round  in  decorous  silence,  he  read  the 
lesson  for  the  day,  and  conducted  the  service  with  a 
gravity  astonishing  to  the  sailors,  who  had  taken 
him  for  a  mere  dandy.  Stamford  bore  his  part  in 
the  responses  from  the  same  prayer-book  with  Cap* 
tain  Jenness,  who  kept  up  a  devout,  inarticulate 
nnder-growl,  and  came  out  strong  on  particular 
words  when  he  got  his  bearings  through  his  spec- 
tacles. Hicks  and  the  first  officer  silently  shared 
another  prayer-book,  and  Lydia  offered  half  hers  to 
Mr.  Mason. 

When  the  hymn  was  given  out,  she  waited  while 
an  experimental  search  for  the  tune  took  place 
among  the  rest.  They  were  about  to  abandon  the 
attempt,  when  she  lifted  her  voice  and  began  to 
sing.  She  sang  as  she  did  in  the  meeting-house  at 
South  Bradfield,  and  her  voice  seemed  to  fill  all  the 
hollow  height  and  distance ;  it  rang  far  off  like  a 
mermaid's  singing,  on  high  like  an  angel's;  it 
called  with  the  same  deep  appeal  to  sense  and  soul 
Alike.  The  sailors  stood  rapt ;  Dunham  kept  up  a 
show  of  singing  for  the  church's  sake.  The  others 
made  no  pretense  of  looking  at  the  words ;  they 
looked  at  her,  and  she  began  to  falter,  hearing  her- 
self alone.  Then  Staniford  struck  in  again  wildly, 
and  the  sea- voices  lent  their  powerful  discord,  while 
the  girl's  contralto  thrilled  through  all. 

"  Well,  Miss  Blood,"  said  the  captain,  when  the 
tervice  had  ended  in  that  subordination  of  the  spirit- 
i  ol  to  the  artistic  interest  which  marks  the  prooeat 
t 


114  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

and  the  close  of  so  much  public  worship  in  oui 
day,  "you  Ve  given  us  a  surprise.  I  guess  we  shall 
keep  you  pretty  busy  with  our  calls  for  music,  after 
this." 

"  She  is  a  genius  !  "  observed  Staniford  at  hii 
first  opportunity  with  Dunham.  "I  knew  there 
must  be  something  the  matter.  Of  course  she's 
going  out  to  school  her  voice ;  and  she  has  n't 
strained  it  in  idle  babble  about  her  own  affairs  !  I 
must  say  that  Lu —  Miss  Blood's  power  of  holding 
her  tongue  commands  my  homage.  Was  it  her  lit- 
tle coup  to  wait  till  we  got  into  that  hopeless  hobble 
before  she  struck  in  ?  " 

"  Coup  ?  For  shame,  Staniford  I  Coup  at  such 
a  time !  " 

"  Well,  well !  I  don't  say  so.  But  for  the  thea- 
tre one  can't  begin  practicing  these  effects  too  soon. 
Really,  that  voice  puts  a  new  complexion  on  Misa 
Blood.  I  have  a  theory  to  reconstruct.  I  have 
been  philosophizing  her  as  a  simple  country  girl. 
I  must  begin  on  an  operatic  novice.  I  liked  the 
other  better.  It  gave  value  to  the  black  silk  ;  as  a 
singer  she  '11  wear  silk  as  habitually  as  a  cocoon. 
She  will  have  to  take  some  stage  name ;  translate 
Blood  into  Italian.  We  shall  know  her  hereafter 
j*s  La  Sanguinelli ;  and  when  she  comes  to  Boston 
we  shall  make  our  modest  brags  about  going  out  to 
Europe  with  her.  I  don't  know;  I  think  I  pre- 
ferred the  idyllic  flavor  I  was  beginning  to  find  in 
the  presence  of  the  ordinary,  futureless  young  giri 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  lib 

royaging  under  the  chaperonage  of  her  own  inno« 
3ence,  —  the  Little  Sister  of  the  Whole  Ship.  But 
this  crepusculant  prima  donna  —  no,  I  don't  like  it. 
Though  it  explains  some  things.  These  splendid 
creatures  are  never  sent  half  equipped  into  the 
world.  I  fancy  that  where  there 's  an  operatic 
voice,  there  's  an  operatic  soul  to  go  with  it.  Well, 
La  Sanguinelli  will  wear  me  out,  yet !  Suggest 
some  new  topic,  Dunham;  talk  of  something  else, 
for  heaven's  sake  !  " 

"Do  you  suppose,"  asked  Dunham,  "that  she 
would  like  to  help  get  up  some  musicales,  to  pass 
away  the  time?" 

"  Oh,  do  you  call  that  talking  of  something  else  ? 
What  an  insatiate  organizer  you  are !  You  organize 
shuffleboard ;  you  organize  public  worship ;  you 
want  to  organize  musicales.  She  would  have  to  do 
all  your  music  for  you." 

"  I  think  she  would  like  to  go  in  for  it,"  said 
Dunham.  "  It  must  be  a  pleasure  to  exercise  sucn 
a  gift  as  that,  and  now  that  it 's  come  out  in  the 
way  it  has,  it  would  be  rather  awkward  for  us  not 
to  recognize  it." 

Stamford  refused  point-blank  to  be  a  party  to  the 
new  enterprise,  and  left  Dunham  to  his  own  devices 
at  dinner,  where  he  proposed  the  matter. 

"  If  you  had  my  Persis  here,  now,"  observed  Cap- 
tain  Jenness,  "  with  her  parlor  organ,  you  could  get 
rfong." 

"  I  wish  Miss  Jenness  was  here,"  said  Dunham 


116       THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

politely.  "But  we  must  try  to  get  on  as  it  IB. 
With  Miss  Blood's  voice  to  start  with,  nothing 
ought  to  discourage  us."  Dunham  had  a  thin  and 
gentle  pipe  of  his  own,  and  a  fairish  style  in  sing 
ing,  but  with  his  natural  modesty  he  would  not  of- 
fer himself  as  a  performer  except  in  default  of  all 
others.  "  Don't  you  sing,  Mr.  Hicks  ?  " 

44  Anything  to  oblige  a  friend,"  returned  Hicks 
"  But  I  don't  sing  —  before  Miss  Blood." 

44  Miss  Blood,"  said  Stamford,  listening  in  ironic 
safety,  *4  you  overawe  us  all.  I  never  did  sing,  but 
I  think  I  should  want  to  make  an  effort  if  you  were 
not  by." 

"  But  don't  you  —  don't  you  play  something,  any- 
thing ? "  persisted  Dunham,  in  desperate  appeal  to 
Hicks. 

"Well,  yes,"  the  latter  admitted,  44I  play  the 
flute  a  little." 

44  Flutes  on  water !  "  said  Staniford.  Hicks  looked 
at  him  in  sulky  dislike,  but  as  if  resolved  not  to  be 
put  down  by  him. 

44  And  have  you  got  your  flute  with  you  ? "  de- 
manded Dunham,  joyously. 

44  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Hicks. 

44  Then  we  are  all  right.  I  think  I  can  carry  a 
pkrt,  and  if  you  will  play  to  Miss  Blood's  sing 

Ing"  — 

"Try  it  this  evening,  if  you  like,"  said  the  other 
"  Well,   ah  —  I  don't  know.     Perhaps  —  w« 

•ad  n't  better  begin  this  evening." 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  AROOSTOOK.       ill 

Staniford  laughed  at  Dunham's  embarrassment. 
*  You  might  have  a  sacred  concert,  and  Mr.  Hicks 
could  represent  the  shawms  and  cymbals  with  his 
Bute." 

Dunham  looked  sorry  for  Stamford's  saying  this 
Captain  Jenness  stared  at  him,  as  if  his  taking  the 
names  of  these  scriptural  instruments  in  vain  were 
R  kind  of  blasphemy,  and  Lydia  seemed  puzzled  and 
a  little  troubled. 

"  I  did  n't  think  of  its  being  Sunday,"  said  Hicks, 
with  what  Staniford  felt  to  be  a  cunning  assump- 
tion of  manly  frankness,  "  or  any  more  Sunday 
than  usual ;  seems  as  if  we  had  had  a  month  of 
Sundays  already  since  we  sailed.  I  'm  not  much  on 
religion  myself,  but  I  should  n't  like  to  interfere 
with  other  people's  principles." 

Staniford  was  vexed  with  himself  for  his  scornful 
pleasantry,  and  vexed  with  the  others  for  taking  it 
BO  seriously  and  heavily,  and  putting  him  so  un- 
necessarily in  the  wrong.  He  was  angry  with  Dun 
ham,  and  he  said  to  Hicks,  "Very  just  senti- 
ments." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  them,"  replied  Hicks,  with 
lullen  apprehension  of  the  offensive  tone. 

Staniford  turned  to  Lydia.  "  I  suppose  that  in 
South  Bradfield  your  Sabbath  is  over  at  sundown 
tn  Sunday  evening." 

44  That  used  to  be  the  custom,"  answered  the 
|irL  "  I  've  heard  my  grandfather  tell  of  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  interposed  Captain  Jenness.     "  They 


118       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

used  to  keep  Saturday  night  down  our  way,  too.  1 
can  remember  when  I  was  a  boy.  It  came  pretty 
bard  to  begin  so  soon,  but  it  seemed  to  kind  ol 
break  it,  after  all,  having  a  night  in." 

The  captain  did  not  know  what  Staniford  began 
to  laugh  at.  "  Our  Puritan  ancestors  knew  jusi 
how  much  human  nature  could  stand,  after  all. 
We  did  not  have  an  uninterrupted  Sabbath  till  the 
Sabbath  had  become  much  milder.  Is  that  it  ?  " 

The  captain  had  probably  no  very  clear  notion  of 
what  this  meant,  but  simply  felt  it  to  be  a  critical 
edge  of  some  sort.  "  I  don't  know  as  you  can  have 
too  much  religion,"  he  remarked.  "  I  've  seen 
some  pretty  rough  customers  in  the  church,  but  I 
always  thought,  What  would  they  be  out  of  it  I " 

"  Very  true  1  "  said  Staniford,  smiling.  He 
wanted  to  laugh  again,  but  he  liked  the  captain 
too  well  to  do  that ;  and  then  he  began  to  rage  in 
his  heart  at  the  general  stupidity  which  had  placed 
him  in  the  attitude  of  mocking  at  religion,  a  thing 
he  would  have  loathed  to  do.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  Dunham  was  answerable  for  his  false  position. 
"  But  we  shall  not  see  the  right  sort  of  Sabbath  till 
Mr.  Dunham  gets  his  Catholic  church  fully  going," 
he  added. 

They  all  started,  and  1<  oked  at  Dunham  as  good 
Protestants  must  when  some  one  whom  they  would 
never  have  suspected  of  Catholicism  turns  out  to 
be  a  Catholic.  Dunham  cast  a  reproachful  glanct 
it  his  friend,  but  said  simply,  "  I  am  a  Catholic,  — 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       119 

jbai  is  true ;  but  I  do  not  admit  the  pretensions  of 
the  Bishop  of  Rome." 

The  rest  of  the  company  apparently  could  not 
follow  him  in  making  this  distinction ;  perhaps 
some  of  them  did  not  quite  know  who  the  Bishop 
of  Rome  was.  Lydia  continued  to  look  at  him  in 
fascination ;  Hicks  seemed  disposed  to  whistle,  if 
such  a  thing  were  allowable ;  Mr.  Watterson  de 
voutly  waited  for  the  captain.  "  Well,"  observed 
the  captain  at  last,  with  the  air  of  giving  the  devil 
his  due,  "  I  Ve  seen  some  very  good  people  among 
the  Catholics." 

"  That 's  so,  Captain  Jenness,"  said  the  first  offi- 
cer. 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Lydia,  without  relaxing  her 
gaze,  "  why,  if  you  are  a  Catholic,  you  read  the 
service  of  a  Protestant  church." 

"  It  is  not  a  Protestant  church,"  answered  Dun- 
ham, gently,  "  as  I  have  tried  to  explain  to  you." 

"  The  Episcopalian  ?  "  demanded  Captain  Jen- 
ness. 

"  The  Episcopalian,"  sweetly  reiterated  Dun- 
ham. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  kind  of  a  church  it 
is,  then,"  said  Captain  Jenness,  triumphantly. 

"  An  Apostolic  church." 

Captain  Jenness  rubbed  his  nose,  as  if  this  were 
i  new  kind  of  church  to  him. 

•*  Founded  by  Saiat  Henry  VIII  himself,"  inter 
ected  Staniford. 


120  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  No,  Stamford,"  said  Dunham,  with  a  soft  re- 
pressiveness.  And  now  a  threatening  light  of  zeal 
began  to  burn  in  his  kindly  eyes.  These  souls  had 
plainly  been  given  into  his  hands  for  ecclesiastical 
enlightenment.  "  If  our  friends  will  allow  me,  I 
will  explain  "  — 

Stamford's  shaft  had  recoiled  upon  his  own  head. 
"  O  Lord  I  "  he  cried,  getting  up  from  the  table, 
"  I  can't  stand  that !"  The  others  regarded  him, 
as  he  felt,  even  to  that  weasel  of  a  Hicks,  as  a 
sheep  of  uncommon  blackness.  He  went  on  deck, 
and  smoked  a  cigar  without  relief.  He  still  heard 
the  girl's  voice  in  singing ;  and  he  still  felt  in  his 
nerves  the  quality  of  latent  passion  in  it  whAch  had 
thrilled  him  when  she  sang.  His  thought  ran 
formlessly  upon  her  future,  and  upon  what  sort  oi 
being  was  already  fated  to  waken  her  to  those  pos- 
sibilities of  intense  suffering  and  joy  which  he  im 
agined  in  her.  A  wound  at  his  heart,  received 
long  before,  hurt/  vaguely ;  and  he  felt  old. 


XI 

No  one  said  anything  more  of  the  musieales,  and 
fche  afternoon  and  evening  wore  away  without  gen- 
eral talk.  Each  seemed  willing  to  keep  apart  from 
the  rest.  Dunham  suffered  Lydia  to  come  on  deck 
alone  after  tea,  and  Staniford  found  her  there,  in 
her  usual  place,  when  he  went  up  some  time  later. 
He  approached  her  at  once,  and  said,  smiling  down 
into  her  face,  to  which  the  moonlight  gave  a  pale 
mystery,  "  Miss  Blood,  did  you  think  I  was  very 
wicked  to-day  at  dinner  ?  " 

Lydia  looked  away,  and  waited  a  moment  before 
she  spoke.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  Then,  im- 
pulsively, "  Did  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"No,  honestly,  I  don't  think  I  was,"  answered 
Staniford.  "  But  I  seemed  to  leave  that  impression 
on  the  company.  I  felt  a  little  nasty,  that  was  all ; 
and  I  tried  to  hurt  Mr.  Dunham's  feelings.  But  I 
shall  make  it  right  with  him  before  I  sleep ;  he 
knows  that.  He 's  used  to  having  me  repent  at 
leisure.  Do  you  ever  walk  Sunday  night?" 

"  Yes,  sometimes,"  said  Lydia  interrogatively. 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that.  Then  I  shall  not  offend  against 
your  scruples  if  I  ask  you  to  join  me  in  a  little  ram- 
ole,  and  you  will  refuse  from  purely  personal  consid- 
erations. Will  you  walk  with  me  ?  " 


122       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

u  Yes."     Lydia  rose. 

*'  And  will  you  take  my  arm?  "  asked  Stamford 
A  little  surprised  at  her  readiness. 

"  Thank  you." 

She  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  confidently 
enough,  and  they  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
itretch  of  open  deck  together. 

"  Well, "  said  Stamford,  "  did  Mr.  Dunham  con- 
vince you  all  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  talks  beautifully  about  it,"  replied 
Lydia,  with  quaint  stiffness. 

"  I  am  glad  you  see  what  a  very  good  fellow  he 
is.  I  have  a  real  affection  for  Dunham." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he 's  good.  At  first  it  surprised  me. 
I  mean  "  — 

"  No,  no,"  Staniford  quickly  interrupted,  "  why 
did  it  surprise  you  to  find  Dunham  good  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  You  don't  expect  a  person  to  be 
serious  who  is  so  —  so  "  — 

"  Handsome  ?  " 

"  No,  —  so  —  I  don't  know  just  how  to  say  it : 
fashionable." 

Staniford  laughed.  "Why,  Miss  Blood,  you'ra 
fashionably  dressed  yourself,  not  to  go  any  farther, 
und  you  're  serious." 

"  It 's  different  with  a  man,"  the  girl  explained. 

"Well,  then,  how  about  me?"  asked  Staniford. 
*  Am  I  too  well  dressed  to  be  expected  to  be  se- 
nous  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Dunham  always  seems  in  earnest,"  Lydis 
answered,  evasively. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       123 

"  And  you  think  one  can't  be  in  earnest  without 
being  serious  ?  "  Lydia  suffered  one  of  those  silences 
to  ensue  in  which  Staniford  had  already  found  him- 
self helpless.  He  knew  that  he  should  be  forced  to 
break  it :  and  he  said,  with  a  little  spiteful  mock- 
ing, "  I  suppose  the  young  men  of  South  Bradfieid 
we  both  serious  and  earnest." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Lydia. 

"  The  young  men  of  South  Bradfield." 

"  I  told  you  that  there  were  none.  They  all  go 
away." 

"Well,  then,  the  young  men  of  Springfield,  of 
Keene,  of  Greenfield." 

"  I  can't  tell.     I  am  not  acquainted  there." 

Staniford  had  begun  to  have  a  disagreeable  sus- 
picion that  her  ready  consent  to  walk  up  and  down 
with  a  young  man  in  the  moonlight  might  have  come 
from  a  habit  of  the  kind.  But  it  appeared  that  her 
fearlessness  was  like  that  of  wild  birds  in  those  des- 
ert islands  where  man  has  never  come.  The  dis- 
covery gave  him  pleasure  out  of  proportion  to  its 
importance,  and  he  paced  back  and  forth  in  a  silence 
that  no  longer  chafed.  Lydia  walked  very  well, 
«id  kept  his  step  with  rhythmic  unison,  as  if  they 
were  walking  to  music  together.  "  That 's  the  time 
in  her  pulses,"  he  thought,  and  then  he  said,  "  Then 
you  don't  have  a  great  deal  of  social  excitement,  1 
roppose,  —  dancing,  and  that  kind  of  thing? 
Though  perhaps  you  don't  approve  of  dancing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yea,  I  like  it.  Sometimes  the  summer 
Boarders  get  up  little  dances  at  the  hotel." 


124       THE  LADY  VF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Oh,  the  summer  boarders  !  "  Staniford  had 
overlooked  them.  "  The  young  men  get  them  up, 
and  invite  the  ladies  ?  "  he  pursued. 

4  There  are  no  young  men,  generally,  among  th« 
summer  boarders.  The  ladies  dance  together.  Moet 
of  the  gentlemen  are  old,  or  else  invalids." 

"  Oh  I  "  said  Staniford. 

"  At  the  Mill  Village,  where  I  've  taught  two 
winters,  they  have  dances  sometimes,  —  the  mill 
hands  do." 

"And  do  you  go?" 

"  No.  They  are  nearly  all  French  Canadians 
and  Irish  people." 

"  Then  you  like  dancing  because  there  are  no 
gentlemen  to  dance  with  ?  " 

"  There  are  gentlemen  at  the  picnics." 

"  The  picnics  ?  " 

"  The  teachers'  picnics.  They  have  them  every 
summer,  in  a  grove  by  the  pond." 

There  was,  then,  a  high-browed,  dyspeptic  high- 
school  principal,  and  the  desert-island  theory  was 
probably  all  wrong.  It  vexed  Staniford,  when  he 
had  so  nearly  got  the  compass  of  her  social  life,  to 
find  this  unexplored  corner  in  it. 

"  And  I  suppose  you  are  leaving  very  agreeable 
friends  among  the  teachers  ?  " 

"  Some  of  them  are  pleasant.  But  I  don't  kno* 
them  very  well.  I  Ve  only  been  to  one  of  the  pie- 
ties." 

Staniford  drew  a  long,  silent  breath.     After  all, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

he  knew  everything.  He  mechanically  dropped  a 
little  the  arm  on  which  her  hand  rested,  that  it 
might  slip  farther  within.  Her  timid  remoteness 
had  its  charm,  and  he  fell  to  thinking,  with  amuse- 
ment, how  she  who  was  so  subordinate  to  him  was, 
in  the  dimly  known  sphere  in  which  he  had  been 
groping  to  find  her,  probably  a  person  of  authority 
and  consequence.  It  satisfied  a  certain  domineering 
quality  in  him  to  have  reduced  her  to  this  humble 
attitude,  while  it  increased  the  protecting  tender- 
ness he  was  beginning  to  have  for  her.  His  mind 
went  off  further  upon  this  matter  of  one's  different 
attitudes  toward  different  persons ;  he  thought  of 
men,  and  women  too,  before  whom  he  should  in- 
stantly feel  like  a  boy,  if  he  could  be  confronted 
with  them,  even  in  his  present  lordliness  of  mood. 
In  a  fashion  of  his  when  he  convicted  himself  of 
anything,  he  laughed  aloud.  Lydia  shrank  a  little 
from  him,  in  question.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he 
Baid.  "I  was  laughing  at  something  I  happened 
to  think  of.  Do  you  ever  find  yourself  struggling 
very  hard  to  be  what  you  think  people  think  yon 
are?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Lydia.  "  But  I  thought  no 
one  else  did." 

"  Everybody  does  the  thing  that  we  think  no  one 
else  does,"  said  Staniford,  sententiously. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  quite  like  it,"  said 
Lydia.  "  It  seems  like  hypocrisy.  It  used  to  worry 
me.  Sometimes  I  wondered  if  I  had  any  real  self. 


126       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

[  seemed  to  be  just  what  people  made  me,  and  a 
different  person  to  each." 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Miss  Blood.  We  are  com* 
pardons  in  hypocrisy.  As  we  are  such  nonentities 
we  shall  not  affect  each  other  at  all."  Lydia 
laughed,  "  Don't  you  think  so  ?  What  are  you 
laughing  at  ?  I  told  you  what  I  was  laughing  at  I  " 

"  But  I  did  n't  ask  you." 

"  You  wished  to  know." 

«  Yes,  I  did." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  tell  me  what  I  wish  to 
know." 

"  It 's  nothing,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  thought  you 
were  mistaken  in  what  you  said." 

"  Oh !  Then  you  believe  that  there 's  enough  of 
you  to  affect  me  ?  " 

"No." 

"  The  other  way,  then  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  'm  delighted  !  "  exclaimed  Stamford.  "  I  hope 
I  don't  exert  an  uncomfortable  influence.  I  should 
be  very  unhappy  to  think  so."  Lydia  stooped  side- 
wise,  away  from  him,  to  get  a  fresh  hold  of  her 
skirt,  which  she  was  carrying  in  her  right  hand, 
and  she  hung  a  little  more  heavily  upon  his  arm. 
M  1  hope  I  make  you  think  better  of  yourself,  — 
very  self-satisfied,  very  conceited  even." 

"  No,"  said  Lydia. 

"  You   pique   my   curiosity   beyond   endurance 
Fell  me  how  I  make  you  feel." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       12? 

She  looked  quickly  round  at  him,  as  if  to  see 
whether  he  was  in  earnest.  "  Why,  it's  nothing," 
ihe  said  "  You  made  me  feel  as  if  you  were  laugh- 
ing at  everybody." 

It  flatters  a  man  to  be  accused  of  sarcasm  by  the 
other  sex,  and  Staniford  was  not  superior  to  the 
ioft  pleasure  of  the  reproach.  "Do  you  think  I 
make  other  people  feel  so,  too  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Dunham  said  "  — 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Dunham  has  been  talking  me  over 
with  you,  has  he  ?  What  did  he  tell  you  of  me  ? 
There  is  nobody  like  a  true  friend  for  dealing  an 
underhand  blow  at  one's  reputation.  Wait  till  you 
hear  my  account  of  Dunham  !  What  did  he  say?  " 

"  He  said  that  was  only  your  way  of  laughing  at 
yourself." 

"  The  traitor  I     What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  said  anything." 

"  You  were  reserving  your  opinion  for  my  own 
hearing  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  me  what  you  thought  ?  Ik 
might  be  of  great  use  to  me.  I  'm  in  earnest,  now  j 
!  'm  serious.  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  some  time,"  said  Lydia,  who  was  both 
unused  and  mystified  at  this  persistence. 

"  When  ?     To-morrow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that 's  too  soon.     When  I  get  to  Venice  I  " 

"Ah!  That's  a  subterfuge.  You  know  ws 
ihall  part  in  Trieste.' 


128       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Lydia,  "  you  were  coming  to 
Venice,  too.'* 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  I  should  n't  be  able  to  see  you 
there." 

"Why  not?" 

«  Why  not?  Why,  because  "  —  He  was  near 
tailing  the  young  girl  who  hung  upon  his  arm,  and 
walked  up  and  down  with  him  in  the  moonlight, 
that  in  the  wicked  Old  World  towards  which  they 
were  sailing  young  people  could  not  meet  save  in 
the  sight  and  hearing  of  their  elders,  and  that  a 
confidential  analysis  of  character  would  be  impossi- 
ble between  them  there.  The  wonder  of  her  being 
where  she  was,  as  she  was,  returned  upon  him  with 
a  freshness  that  it  had  been  losing  in  the  custom  of 
the  week  past.  "Because  you  will  be  so  much 
taken  up  with  your  friends,"  he  said,  lamely.  He 
added  quickly,  "  There 's  one  thing  I  should  like  to 
know,  Miss  Blood :  did  you  hear  what  Mr.  Dun- 
ham and  I  were  saying,  last  night,  when  we  stood 
in  the  gangway  and  kept  you  from  coming  up  ?  " 

Lydia  waited  a  moment.  Then  she  said,  "  Yes. 
I  could  n't  help  hearing  it." 

"  That 's  all  right.  I  don't  care  for  your  healing 
what  I  said.  But  —  I  hope  it  was  n't  true  ?  " 

"  I  could  n't  understand  what  you  meant  by  it,* 
ihe  answered,  evasively,  but  rather  faintly. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Staniford.  "  I  did  n't  mean  any 
thing.  It  was  merely  the  guilty  consciousness  of  t 
generally  disagreeable  person."  They  walked  up 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  129 

and  down  many  turns  without  saying  anything. 
Sha  could  not  have  made  any  direct  protest,  and  it 
pleased  him  that  she  could  not  frame  any  flourish- 
ing generalities.  "Yes,"  Stamford  resumed,  "I 
will  try  to  see  you  as  I  pass  through  Venice.  And 
I  will  come  to  hear  you  sing  when  you  come  out  at 
Milan." 

"  Come  out  ?     At  Milan  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes  !  You  are  going  to  study  at  the  con- 
servatory in  Milan  ?  " 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  "  demanded  Lydia. 

"  From  hearing  you  to-day.  May  I  tell  you  how 
much  I  liked  your  singing  ?  " 

*'  My  aunt  thought  I  ought  to  cultivate  my  voice. 
But  I  would  never  go  upon  the  stage.  I  would 
rather  sing  in  a  church.  I  should  like  that  better 
than  teaching." 

"  I  think  you  're  quite  right,"  said  Staniford, 
gravely.  "  It 's  certainly  much  better  to  sing  in  a 
church  than  to  sing  in  a  theatre.  Though  I  believe 
*:he  theatre  pays  best." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  for  that.  All  I  should  want 
would  be  to  make  a  living." 

The  reference  to  her  poverty  touched  him.  It 
was  a  confidence,  coming  from  one  so  reticent,  that 
was  of  value.  He  waited  a  moment  and  said, 
"  It 's  surprising  how  well  we  keep  our  footing 
here,  is  n't  it  ?  There  's  hardly  any  swell,  but  the 
nhip  pitches.  I  think  we  walk  better  together  than 
alone." 


130       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"Yes,"  answered  Lydia,  "I  think  we  do." 

"  You  must  n't  let  me  tire  you.  I  'm  indefatiga 
ble." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  tired.     I  like  it,  —  walking." 

*'  Do  you  walk  much  at  home  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  It 's  a  pretty  good  walk  to  the 
*fthool-house." 

"  Oh  1  Then  you  like  walking  at  sea  better  than 
you  do  on  shore?" 

"  It  is  n't  the  custom,  much.  If  there  were  any 
one  else,  I  should  have  liked  it  thr^e.  But  it 's 
rather  dull,  going  by  yourself." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  how  that  is,"  said  Stamford, 
dropping  his  teasing  tone.  "  It 's  stupid.  And  I 
suppose  it 's  pretty  lonesome  at  South  Brad  field 
every  way." 

"  It  is,  —  winters,"  admitted  Lydia.  "  In  the 
summer  you  see  people,  at  any  rate,  but  in  wintei 
there  are  days  and  days  when  hardly  any  one  passes. 
The  snow  is  banked  up  everywhere." 

He  felt  her  give  an  involuntary  shiver ;  and  he 
began  to  talk  to  her  about  the  climate  to  which  she 
was  going.  It  was  all  stranger  to  her  than  he  could 
have  realized,  and  less  intelligible.  She  remembered 
California  very  dimly,  and  she  had  no  experience  by 
which  she  could  compare  and  adjust  his  facts.  He 
made  her  walk  up  and  down  more  and  more  swiftly 
is  he  lost  himself  in  the  comfort  of  his  own  talking 
*nd  of  her  listening,  and  he  failed  to  note  the  little 
talterings  with  whnh  she  expressed  her  weariness 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       131 

A.11  at  once  he  halted,  and  said,  "  Why,  you  're  out 
of  breath  I  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  should  have 
stopped  me.  Let  us  sit  down."  He  wished  to  walk 
across  the  deck  to  where  the  seats  were,  but  she 
just  perceptibly  withstood  his  motion,  and  he  for- 
bore. 

"  I  think  I  won't  sit  down,"  she  said.  "  I  will 
go  down-stairs."  She  began  withdrawing  her  hand 
from  his  arm.  He  put  his  right  hand  upon  hers, 
and  when  it  came  out  of  his  arm  it  remained  in  hifl 
hand. 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  won't  walk  with  me  again," 
said  Staniford.  "  I  've  tired  you  shamefully." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all  I  " 

"  And  you  will  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Thanks.  You  're  very  amiable."  He  still  held 
her  hand.  He  pressed  it.  The  pressure  was  not 
returned,  but  her  hand  seemed  to  quiver  and  throb 
in  his  like  a  bird  held  there.  For  tho  time  neither 
of  them  spoke,  and  it  seemed  a  long  time.  Stani- 
ford found  himself  carrying  her  hand  towards  his 
lips;  and  she  was  helplessly,  trustingly,  letting 
lim. 

He  dropped  her  hand,  and  said,  abruptly,  "  Good- 
light." 

"  Good-night,"  she  answered,  and  ceased  from  hit 
tide  like  a  ghost. 


XII 

STANIFOED  sat  in  the  moonlight,  and  tried  ts 
think  what  the  steps  were  that  had  brought  him 
fco  this  point ;  but  there  were  no  steps  of  which  he 
was  sensible.  He  remembered  thinking  the  night 
before  that  the  conditions  were  those  of  flirtation ; 
to-night  this  had  not  occurred  to  him.  The  talk 
had  been  of  the  dullest  commonplaces ;  yet  he  had 
pressed  her  hand  and  kept  it  in  his,  and  had  been 
about  to  kiss  it.  He  bitterly  considered  the  dis- 
parity between  his  present  attitude  and  the  stand 
he  had  taken  when  he  declared  to  Dunham  that  it 
rested  with  them  to  guard  her  peculiar  isolation 
from  anything  that  she  could  remember  with  pain 
or  humiliation  when  she  grew  wiser  in  the  world- 
He  recalled  his  rage  with  Hicks,  and  the  insulting 
condemnation  of  his  bearing  towards  him  ever 
since  ;  and  could  Hicks  have  done  worse  ?  He  had 
done  better :  he  had  kept  away  from  her ;  he  had 
let  her  alone. 

That  night  Stamford  slept  badly,  and  woke  with 
a  restless  longing  to  see  the  girl,  and  to  read  in  hei 
face  whatever  her  thought  of  him  had  been.  But 
Lydia  did  not  come  out  to  breakfast.  Thomas  re- 
ported that  she  had  a  headache,  and  that  he  had 
already  carried  her  the  tea  and  toast  she  wanted. 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Well,  it  seems  kind  of  lonesome  without  her,'' 
•kid  the  captain.  *''  It  don't  seem  as  if  we  could 
get  along." 

It  seemed  desolate  to  Stamford,  who  let  the  talk 
flag  and  fail  round  him  without  an  effort  to  rescue 
it.  All  the  morning  he  lurked  about,  keeping  out 
of  Dunham's  way,  and  fighting  hard  through  a 
dozen  pages  of  a  book,  to  which  he  struggled  to 
nail  his  wandering  mind.  A  headache  was  a  little 
matter,  but  it  might  be  even  less  than  a  headache. 
He  belated  himself  purposely  at  dinner,  and  en- 
tered the  cabin  just  as  Lydia  issued  from  her  state- 
room door. 

She  was  pale  and  looked  heavy-eyed.  As  she 
lifted  her  glance  to  him,  she  blushed  ;  and  he  felt 
the  answering  red  stain  his  face.  When  she  sa; 
down,  the  captain  patted  her  on  the  shoulder  with 
his  burly  right  hand,  and  said  he  could  not  navigate 
the  ship  if  she  got  sick.  He  pressed  her  to  eat  of 
this  and  that ;  and  when  she  would  not,  he  said, 
well,  there  was  no  use  trying  to  force  an  appetite, 
and  that  she  would  be  better  all  the  sooner  for 
dieting.  Hicks  went  to  his  state-room,  and  came 
But  with  a  box  of  guava  jelly,  from  his  private 
stores,  and  won  a  triumph  enviable  in  all  eyes  when 
Lydia  consented  to  like  it  with  the  chicken.  Dun- 
ham plundered  his  own  and  Stamford's  common 
stock  of  dainties  for  her  dessert;  the  first  officer 
jigreed  and  applauded  right  and  left;  Staniford 
tlone  §at  taciturn  and  inoperative,  watching  hei 


134       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

face  furtively.  Once  her  eyes  wandered  to  the  side 
ef  the  table  where  he  and  Dunham  sat ;  then  she 
colored  and  dropped  her  glance. 

He  took  his  book  again  after  dinner,  and  with  hi* 
finger  between  the  leaves,  at  the  last-read,  unintel- 
ligible page,  he  went  out  to  the  bow,  and  crouched 
down  there  to  renew  the  conflict  of  the  morning, 
It  was  not  long  before  Dunham  followed.  He 
stooped  over  to  lay  a  hand  on  either  of  Stamford's 
shoulders. 

"  What  makes  you  avoid  me,  old  man  ?  "  he  de- 
manded, looking  into  Stamford's  face  with  his  frank, 
kind  eyes. 

"  And  I  avoid  you  ?  "  asked  Staniford. 

"Yes;  why?" 

"  Because  I  feel  rather  shabby,  I  suppose.  I 
knew  I  felt  shabby,  but  I  did  n't  know  I  was  avoid- 
ing you." 

"Well,  no  matter.  If  you  feel  shabby,  it's  all 
right ;  but  I  hate  to  have  you  feel  shabby."  He  got 
his  left  hand  down  into  Staniford's  right,  and  a 
tacit  reconciliation  was  transacted  between  them. 
Dunham  looked  about  for  a  seat,  and  found  a  stool, 
which  he  planted  in  front  of  Staniford.  "  Was  n't 
it  pleasant  to  have  our  little  lady  back  at  table, 
-gain?" 

"  Very,"  said  Staniford. 

H  I  could  n't  help  thinking  how  droll  it  was  that 
i  person  whom  we  all  considered  a  sort  of  incum- 
xrance  and  superfluity  at  first  should  really  turn 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       135 

oat  an  object  of  prime  importance  to  us  all.     Is  n't 

it  amusing  ?  " 

"Very  droll." 

"  Why,  we  were  quite  lost  without  her,  at  break 
fast.     I  could  n't  have  imagined  her  taking  such  a 
hold  upon  us  all,  in  so  short  a  time.     But  she  's  a 
pretty  creature,  and  as  good  as  she  's  pretty." 

44 1  remember  agreeing  with  you  on  those  points 
before."  Staniford  feigned  to  suppress  fatigue. 

Dunham  observed  him.  "  I  know  you  don't  take 
BO  much  interest  in  her  as  —  as  the  rest  of  us  do, 
and  I  wish  you  did.  You  don't  know  what  a  lovely 
nature  she  is." 

"No?" 

"  No  ;  and  I  'm  sure  you  'd  like  her." 

"  Is  it  important  that  I  should  like  her  ?  Don't 
let  your  enthusiasm  for  the  sex  carry  you  beyond 
bounds,  Dunham." 

"No,  no.  Not  important,  but  very  pleasant. 
And  I  think  acquaintance  with  such  a  girl  would 
give  you  some  new  ideas  of  women." 

"  Oh,  my  old  ones  are  good  enough.  Look  here, 
Dunham,"  said  Staniford,  sharply,  "  what  are  you 
after  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  'm  after  anything  ?  " 

"  Because  you  're  not  a  humbug,  and  because  I 
am.  My  depraved  spirit  instantly  recognized  the 
Pawning  duplicity  of  yours.  But  you  'd  better  bo 
aonest.  You  can't  make  the  other  thing  work 
VV hat  do  you  want?" 


136       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  I  want  your  advice.  I  want  your  help,  Stan- 
iford." 

"  I  thought  so  I  Coming  and  forgiving  me  in 
that  —  apostolic  manner." 

«Don?tI" 

"Well.  What  do  you  want  my  help  for  ?  Wha* 
have  you  been  doing  ?  "  Staniford  paused,  and 
suddenly  added  :  "  Have  you  been  making  love  to 
Lurella  ?  "  He  said  this  in  his  ironical  manner, 
but  his  smile  was  rather  ghastly. 

"  For  shame,  Staniford !  "  cried  Dunham.  But 
he  reddened  violently. 

"  Then  it  is  n't  with  Miss  Hibbard  that  you  want 
my  help.  I  'm  glad  of  that.  It  would  have  been 
awkward.  I  'm  a  little  afraid  of  Miss  Hibbard.  It 
is  n't  every  one  has  your  courage,  my  dear  fellow." 

"  I  have  n't  been  making  love  to  her,"  said  Dun- 
ham, "but— I"  — 

"  But  you  what  ?  "  demanded  Staniford  sharply 
again.  There  had  been  less  tension  of  voice  in  his 
joking  about  Miss  Hibbard. 

"  Staniford,"  said  his  friend,  "  I  don't  know 
whether  you  noticed  her,  at  dinner,  when  she 
Booked  across  to  our  own  side  ?  " 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"  Did  you  notice  that  she  —  well,  that  she  blushed 
*  little?" 

Staniford  waited  a  while  before  he  answered; 
a  gulp,  "  Yes,  I  noticed  that." 

**  Well,  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it  exactly,  but 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK       187 

I 'in  afraid  that  I  have  unwittingly  wronged  this 
young  girl." 

"  Wronged  her  ?  What  the  devil  do  you  mean, 
Dunham  ?  "  cried  Stamford,  with  bitter  impatience 

"  I  'm  afraid  —  I  'm  afraid  —  Why,  it 's  simply 
this :  that  in  trying  to  amuse  her,  and  make  the 
time  pass  agreeably,  and  relieve  her  mind,  and  all 
that,  don't  you  know,  I  've  given  her  the  impression 
that  I  'm  —  well  —  interested  in  her,  and  that  she 
may  have  allowed  herself  —  insensibly,  you  know — 
to  look  upon  me  in  that  light,  and  that  she  may  have 
begun  to  think  —  that  she  may  have  become  "  — 

"  Interested  in  you  ?  "  interrupted  Staniford 
rudely. 

«  Well  —  ah  —well,  that  is  —  ah  —  well  —  yes ! ' 
cried  Dunham,  bracing  himself  to  sustain  a  shout 
of  ridicule.  But  Staniford  did  not  laugh,  and 
Dunham  had  courage  to  go  on.  "  Of  course,  it 
sounds  rather  conceited  to  say  so,  but  the  circum- 
stances are  so  peculiar  that  I  think  we  ought  to 
recognize  even  any  possibilities  of  that  sort." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Staniford,  gravely.  "  Most 
women,  I  believe,  are  so  innocent  as  to  think  a 
man  in  love  when  he  behaves  like  a  lover.  And 
this  one,"  he  added  ruefully,  "  seems  more  than 
commonly  ignorant  of  our  ways,  —  of  our  infernal 
shilly-shallying,  purposeless  no-mindedness.  She 
eould  n't  imagine  a  man  —  a  gentleman  —  devoting 
himself  to  her  by  the  hour,  and  trying  by  every  art 
V)  show  his  interest  and  pleasure  in  her  society, 


138       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

without  imagining  that  he  wished  her  to  like  him, 
—  love  him ;  there  's  no  half-way  about  it.  She 
could  n't  suppose  him  the  shallow,  dawdling,  soul- 
less, senseless  ape  he  really  was."  Staniford  was 
quite  in  a  heat  by  this  time,  and  Dunham  listened 
in  open  astonishment. 

u  You  are  hard  upon  me,"  he  said.  "  Of  course, 
I  have  been  to  blame  ;  I  know  that,  I  acknowledge 
it.  But  my  motive,  as  you  know  well  enough,  was 
never  to  amuse  myself  with  her,  but  to  contribute 
in  any  way  I  could  to  her  enjoyment  and  happi- 
ness. I"  — 

"  You!"  cried  Stamford.  "  What  are  you  talk- 
ing  about?  " 

**  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  demanded  Dun- 
ham, in  his  turn. 

Staniford  recollected  himself.  "  I  was  speaking 
of  abstract  flirtation.  I  was  firing  into  the  air." 

"  In  my  case,  I  don't  choose  to  call  it  flirtation," 
returned  Dunham.  "  My  purpose,  I  am  bound  to 
say,  was  thoroughly  unselfish  and  kindly." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Staniford,  with  a  bitter 
imile,  "  there  can  be  no  unselfishness  and  no  kindli- 
ness between  us  and  young  girls,  unless  we  mean 
business,  —  love-making.  You  may  be  sure  that 
they  feel  it  so,  if  they  don't  understand  it  so." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you.  I  don't  believe  it. 
My  own  experience  is  that  the  sweetest  and  most 
generous  friendships  may  exist  between  us,  without 
ft  thought  of  anything  else.  And  as  to  making 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       139 

love,  I  must  beg  you  to  remember  that  my  love  has 
been  made  once  for  all.  I  never  dreamt  of  show- 
ing Miss  Blood  anything  but  polite  attention." 

•'  Then  what  are  you  troubled  about  ?  " 

"  I  am  troubled  "  —  Dunham  stopped  helplesaly, 
and  Staniford  laughed  in  a  challenging,  disagree- 
able way,  so  that  the  former  perforce  resumed : 
"  I  'm  troubled  about  —  about  her  possible  rnisin» 
terpretation." 

"  Oh  !  Then  in  this  case  of  sweet  and  generous 
friendship  the  party  of  the  second  part  may  have 
construed  the  sentiment  quite  differently !  Well, 
what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  Do  you  want  me  to 
take  the  contract  off  your  hands  ?  " 

44  You  put  it  grossly,"  said  Dunham. 

"Andyow  put  it  offensively!  "  cried  the  other. 
"  My  regard  for  the  young  lady  is  as  reverent  as 
yours.  You  have  no  right  to  miscolor  my  words." 

"  Stamford,  you  are  too  bad,"  said  Dunham,  hurt 
even  more  than  angered.  "  If  I  've  come  to  you 
in  the  wrong  moment  —  if  you  are  vexed  at  any- 
thing, I  '11  go  away,  and  beg  your  pardon  for  boring 
you." 

Staniford  was  touched ;  he  looked  cordially  into 
his  friend's  face.  "  I  was  vexed  at  something,  but 
you  never  can  come  to  me  at  the  wrong  moment, 
old  fellow.  I  beg  your  pardon.  /  see  your  diffi- 
culty plainly  enough,  and  I  think  you  're  quite 
right  in  proposing  to  hold  up,  —  for  that 's  what 
?ou  mean,  I  take  it?  * 


140       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Yes,'  said  Dunham,  "  it  is.  And  I  don't  know 
how  she  will  like  it.  She  will  be  puzzled  and 
grieved  by  it.  I  had  n't  thought  seriously  about 
the  matter  till  this  morning,  when  she  did  n't  come 
to  breakfast.  You  know  I  've  been  in  the  habit  oi 
asking  her  to  walk  with  me  every  night  after  tea 
but  Saturday  evening  you  were  with  her,  and  last 
night  I  felt  sore  about  the  affairs  of  the  day,  and 
rather  dull,  and  I  did  n't  ask  her.  I  think  she 
noticed  it.  I  think  she  was  hurt." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  said  Stanif ord,  peculiarly. 

"I  might  not  have  thought  so,"  continued  Dun- 
ham, "  merely  because  she  did  not  come  to  break- 
fast ;  but  her  blushing  when  she  looked  across  at 
dinner  really  made  me  uneasy." 

"  Very  possibly  you  're  right."  Stamford  mused 
a  while  before  he  spoke  again.  "  Well,  what  do 
you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  must  hold  up,  as  you  say,  and  of  course  she 
will  feel  the  difference.  I  wish  —  I  wish  at  least 
you  would  n't  avoid  her,  Stanif  ord.  That 's  alL 
Any  little  attention  from  you  —  I  know  it  bores 
you  —  would  not  only  break  the  loneliness,  but  it 
would  explain  that — that  my  —  attentions  didn't 
—  ah  —  had  n't  meant  anything." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes ;  that  it 's  common  to  offer  them.  And 
she  's  a  girl  of  so  much  force  of  character  that  when 
ihe  sees  the  affair  in  its  true  light —  I  suppose 
i  'm  to  blame  I  Yes,  I  ought  to  have  told  her  at 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.       141 

the  beginning  that  I  was  engaged.  But  you  can't 
force  a  fact  of  that  sort  upon  a  new  acquaintance : 
it  looks  silly."  Dunham  hung  his  head  in  self- 
reproach. 

«  Well  ?  "  asked  Stanif  ord. 

"Well,  that's  all  I  No,  it  isn't  all,  either. 
There 's  something  else  troubles  me.  Our  poof 
little  friend  is  a  blackguard,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Hicks?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  have  invited  him  to  be  the  leader  of  youi 
orchestra,  have  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't,  Stamford ! "  cried  Dunham  in  his 
helplessness.  "  I  should  hate  to  see  her  dependent 
in  any  degree  upon  that  little  cad  for  society."  Cad 
was  the  last  English  word  which  Dunham  had  got 
himself  used  to.  "  That  was  why  I  hoped  that  you 
would  n't  altogether  neglect  her.  She 's  here,  and 
she's  no  choice  but  to  remain.  We  can't  leave 
her  to  herself  without  the  danger  of  leaving  her  to 
Hicks.  You  see?" 

"  Well,"  said  Staniford  gloomily,  "  I  'm  not  sure 
that  you  could  n't  leave  her  to  a  worse  cad  than 
Hicks."  Dunham  looked  up  in  question.  "To 
me,  for  example." 

"  Oh,  hallo  I  "  cried  Dunham. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  'm  to  be  of  any  use,"  contin- 
ued the  other.  "  I  'm  not  a  squire  of  dames  :  I 
ihould  merely  make  a  mess  of  it." 

44  You  're   mistaken,  Staniford,  —  I  'm  sure  you 


142       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

we,  —  in  supposing  that  she  dislikes  you,"  urged 
his  friend. 

"  Oh,  very  likely." 

"I  know  that  she  's  simply  afraid  of  you." 

"Don't  flatter,  Dunham.  Why  should  I  care 
whether  she  fears  me  or  affects  me  ?  No,  my  dear 
fellow.  This  is  irretrievably  your  own  affair.  1 
ghould  be  glad  to  help  you  out  if  I  knew  how.  But 
I  don't.  In  the  mean  time  your  duty  is  plain,  what- 
ever happens.  You  can't  overdo  the  sweet  and  the 
generous  in  this  wicked  world  without  paying  the 
penalty." 

Stamford  smiled  at  the  distress  in  which  Dunham 
went  his  way.  He  understood  very  well  that  it 
was  not  vanity,  but  the  liveliness  of  a  sensitive  con- 
science, that  had  made  Dunham  search  his  conduct 
for  the  offense  against  the  young  girl's  peace  of 
heart  which  he  believed  he  had  committed,  and  it 
was  the  more  amusing  because  he  was  so  guiltless 
of  harm.  Staniford  knew  who  was  to  blame  for  the 
headache  and  the  blush.  He  knew  that  Dunham 
had  never  gone  so  far ;  that  his  chivalrous  pleasure 
In  her  society  might  continue  for  years  free  from 
flirtation.  But  in  spite  of  this  conviction  a  little 
poignant  doubt  made  itself  felt,  and  suddenly  be- 
came his  whole  consciousness.  "  Confound  him ! ' 
he  mused.  "  I  wonder  if  she  really  could  care  any 
thing  for  him  ! "  He  shut  his  book,  and  rose  to 
bis  feet  with  such  a  burning  in  his  heart  that  he 
oould  not  have  believed  himself  capable  of  the 


THE  LADY   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  148 

greater  rage  he  felt  at  what  he  just  then  saw.  It 
was  Lydia  and  Hicks  seated  together  in  the  place 
where  he  had  sat  with  her.  She  leaned  with  one 
arm  upon  the  rail,  in  an  attitude  that  brought  all 
her  slim  young  grace  into  evidence.  She  seemed 
on  very  good  terms  with  him,  and  he  was  talking 
and  making  her  laugh  as  Staniford  had  never  heard 
ber  laugh  before  —  so  freely,  so  heartily. 


XIII 

THE  atoms  that  had  been  tending  in  Stanford's 
being  toward  a  certain  form  suddenly  arrested  and 
shaped  themselves  anew  at  the  vibration  imparted 
by  this  laughter.  He  no  longer  felt  himself  Hicks's 
possible  inferior,  but  vastly  better  in  every  way, 
and  out  of  the  turmoil  of  his  feelings  in  regard  to 
Lydia  was  evolved  the  distinct  sense  of  having  been 
trifled  with.  Somehow,  an  advantage  had  been 
taken  of  his  sympathies  and  purposes,  and  his  for- 
bearance had  been  treated  with  contempt. 

The  conviction  was  neither  increased  nor  dimin- 
ished by  the  events  of  the  evening,  when  Lydia 
brought  out  some  music  from  her  state-room,  and 
Hicks  appeared,  flute  in  hand,  from  his,  and  they 
began  practicing  one  of  the  pieces  together.  It  was 
a  pretty  enough  sight.  Hicks  had  been  gradually 
growing  a  better -looking  fellow ;  he  had  an  unde- 
niable picturesqueness,  as  he  bowed  his  head  over 
the  music  towards  hers ;  and  she,  as  she  held  the 
sheet  with  one  hand  for  him  to  see,  while  she  noise- 
lessly accompanied  herself  on  the  table  with  the 
Sngers  of  the  other,  and  tentatively  sang  now  this 
passage  and  now  that,  was  divine.  The  picture 
teemed  pleasing  to  neither  Stamford  nor  Dunham, 
they  went  on  deck  together,  and  sat  down  to  theii 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  145 

cigarettes  in  their  wonted  place.  They  did  not  talk 
of  Lydia,  or  of  any  of  the  things  that  had  formed 
the  basis  of  their  conversation  hitherto,  but  Stani- 
ford  returned  to  his  Colorado  scheme,  and  explained 
at  length  the  nature  of  his  purposes  and  expecta- 
tions. He  had  discussed  these  matters  before,  but 
he  had  never  gone  into  them  so  fully,  nor  with 
such  cheerful  earnestness.  He  said  he  should  never 
marry,  —  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  that ;  but  he 
hoped  to  make  money  enough  to  take  care  of  his 
sister's  boy  Jim  handsomely,  as  the  little  chap  had 
been  named  for  him.  He  had  been  thinking  the 
matter  over,  and  he  believed  that  he  should  get 
back  by  rail  and  steamer  as  soon  as  he  could  after 
they  reached  Trieste.  He  was  not  sorry  he  had 
come ;  but  he  could  not  afford  to  throw  away  too 
much  time  on  Italy,  just  then. 

Dunham,  on  his  part,  talked  a  great  deal  of  Misa 
Hibbard,  and  of  some  curious  psychological  char- 
acteristics of  her  dyspepsia.  He  asked  Stamford 
whether  he  had  ever  shown  him  the  photograph  of 
Miss  Hibbard  taken  by  Sarony  when  she  was  on  to 
New  York  the  last  time :  it  was  a  three-quarters 
view,  and  Dunham  thought  it  the  best  she  had  had 
done.  He  spoke  of  her  generous  qualities,  and  of 
the  interest  she  had  always  had  in  the  Diet  Kitchen, 
to  which,  as  an  invalid,  her  attention  had  been  partio 
nlarly  directed :  and  he  said  that  in  her  last  letter  she 
had  mentioned  a  project  for  establishing  diet  kitchens 
n  Europe,  on  the  Boston  plan.  When  their  talk 


146       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AEOOSTOOK. 

grew  more  impersonal  and  took  a  wider  range,  thej 
gathered  suggestion  from  the  situation,  and  remarked 
upon  the  immense  solitude  of  the  sea.  They  agreed 
that  there  was  something  weird  in  the  long  contin- 
uance of  fine  weather,  and  that  the  moon  had  a  strange 
look.  They  spoke  of  the  uncertainty  of  life.  Dun- 
ham regretted,  as  he  had  often  regretted  before,  that 
his  friend  had  no  fixed  religious  belief  ;  and  Stani 
ford  gently  accepted  his  solicitude,  and  said  that  he 
had  at  least  a  conviction  if  not  a  creed.  He  then 
begged  Dunham's  pardon  in  set  terms  for  trying  to 
wound  his  feelings  the  day  before  ;  and  in  the  silent 
hand-clasp  that  followed  they  renewed  all  the  cor- 
diality of  their  friendship.  From  time  to  time,  as 
they  talked,  the  music  from  below  came  up  fitfully, 
and  once  they  had  to  pause  as  Lydia  sang  through 
the  song  that  she  and  Hicks  were  practicing. 

As  the  days  passed  their  common  interest  in  the 
art  brought  Hicks  and  the  young  girl  almost  con- 
stantly together,  and  the  sound  of  their  concerting 
often  filled  the  ship.  The  musicales,  less  formal 
than  Dunham  had  intended,  and  perhaps  for  that 
reason  a  source  of  rapidly  diminishing  interest  with 
him,  superseded  both  ring-toss  and  shuffle-board,  and 
seemed  even  more  acceptable  to  the  ship's  company 
as  an  entertainment.  One  evening,  when  the  per 
formers  had  been  giving  a  piece  of  rather  more  than 
usual  excellence  and  difficulty,  one  of  the  sailors, 
leputed  by  his  mates,  came  aft,  with  many  clumsy 
«hows  of  deference,  and  asked  them  to  give  March 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  147 

ing  through  Georgia.  Hicks  found  this  out  of  hia 
repertory,  but  Lydia  sang  it.  Then  the  group  at 
the  forecastle  shouted  with  one  voice  for  Tramp, 
Tramp,  Tramp,  the  Boys  are  Marching,  and  so  be- 
guiled her  through  the  whole  list  of  war-songs.  She 
ended  with  one  unknown  to  her  listeners,  but  better 
than  all  the  rest  in  its  pathetic  words  and  music, 
and  when  she  had  sung  The  Flag  's  come  back  to 
Tennessee,  the  spokesman  of  the  sailors  came  aft 
again,  to  thank  her  for  his  mates,  and  to  say  they 
would  not  spoil  that  last  song  by  asking  for  any- 
thing else.  It  was  a  charming  little  triumph  for 
her,  as  she  sat  surrounded  by  her  usual  court :  the 
captain  was  there  to  countenance  the  freedom  the 
sailors  had  taken,  and  Dunham  and  Staniford  stood 
near,  but  Hicks,  at  her  right  hand,  held  the  place 
of  honor. 

The  next  night  Staniford  found  her  alone  in  the 
waist  of  the  ship,  and  drew  up  a  stool  beside  the 
rail  where  she  sat. 

"We  all  enjoyed  your  singing  so  much,  last 
night,  Miss  Blood.  I  think  Mr.  Hicks  plays 
charmingly,  but  I  believe  I  prefer  to  hear  your 
*oice  alone." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lydia,  looking  down,  de- 
murely. 

"  It  must  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  feel  that  yoo 
mn  give  so  much  pleasure." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  passing  the  palm  of 
ane  hand  over  the  back  of  the  other. 


148       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  When  you  are  a  prima  donna  you  must  n't  fo* 
get  your  old  friends  of  the  Aroostook.  We  shall 
all  take  vast  pride  in  you." 

It  was  not  a  question,  and  Lydia  answered  noth- 
ing. Stamford,  who  had  rather  obliged  himself  to 
this  advance,  with  some  dim  purpose  of  showing 
that  nothing  had  occurred  to  alienate  them  since 
the  evening  of  their  promenade,  without  having 
proved  to  himself  that  it  was  necessary  to  do  this, 
felt  that  he  was  growing  angry.  It  irritated  him 
to  have  her  sit  as  unmoved  after  his  words  as  if  he 
had  not  spoken. 

"  Miss  Blood,"  he  said,  "  I  envy  you  your  gift  of 
snubbing  people." 

Lydia  looked  at  him.  "  Snubbing  people  ?  "  she 
echoed. 

*'  Yes ;  your  power  of  remaining  silent  when  you 
•vish  to  put  down  some  one  who  has  been  wittingly 
or  unwittingly  impertinent." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  in  a 
sort  of  breathless  way. 

"  And  you  did  n't  intend  to  mark  your  dia- 
pleasure  at  my  planning  your  future  ?  " 

"  No !     We  had  talked  of  that.     I "  — 

"  And  you  were  not  vexed  with  me  for  any- 
vhing  ?  I  have  been  afraid  that  I  —  that  you  "  — 
Stamford  found  that  he  was  himself  getting  short 
of  breath.  He  had  begun  with  the  intention  of 
mystifying  her,  but  matters  had  suddenly  taken 
mother  course,  and  he  was  really  anxious  to  kno* 


THE  LADY    OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  149 

whether  any  disagreeable  associations  with  that 
night  lingered  in  her  mind.  With  this  longing 
came  a  natural  inability  to  find  the  right  word. 
**  I  was  afraid  "  —  he  repeated,  and  then  he 
•topped  again.  Clearly,  he  could  not  tell  her  that 
he  was  afraid  he  had  gone  too  far;  but  this  waa 
what  he  meant.  "  You  don't  walk  with  me,  any 
more,  Miss  Blood,"  he  concluded,  with  an  air  of 
burlesque  reproach. 

44  You  have  n't  asked  me  —  since,"  she  said. 

He  felt  a  singular  value  and  significance  in  this 
word,  since.  It  showed  that  her  thoughts  had 
been  running  parallel  with  his  own ;  it  permitted, 
if  it  did  not  signify,  that  he  should  resume  the 
mood  of  that  time,  where  their  parting  had  inter- 
rupted it.  He  enjoyed  the  fact  to  the  utmost,  but 
he  was  not  sure  that  he  wished  to  do  what  he  was 
permitted.  "  Then  I  did  n't  tire  you  ?  "  he  merely 
asked.  He  was  not  sure,  now  he  came  to  think  of 
it,  that  he  liked  her  willingness  to  recur  to  that 
time.  He  liked  it,  but  not  quite  in  the  way  he 
would  have  liked  to  like  it. 

44  No,"  she  said. 

44  The  fact  is,"  he  went  on  aimlessly,  "  tnat  I 
thought  I  had  rather  abused  your  kindness.  Be- 
aides,"  he  added,  veering  off,  "I  was  afraid  I  should 
be  an  interruption  to  the  musical  exercises." 

44  Oh,  no,"  said  Lydia.  "  Mr.  Dunham  has  n't 
irranged  anything  yet."  Stamford  thought  this 
incandid.  It  was  fighting  shy  of  Hicks,  who 


160       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

the  person  in  his  own  mind ;  and  it  reawakened  * 
luspicion  which  was  lurking  there.  "  Mr.  Dun- 
ham seems  to  have  lost  his  interest." 

This  struck  Staniford  as  an  expression  of  pique  • 
it  reawakened  quite  another  suspicion.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  she  was  hurt  at  the  cessation  of  Dun- 
ham's attentions.  He  was  greatly  minded  to  say 
chat  Dunham  was  a  fool,  but  he  ended  by  saying, 
with  sarcasm,  "  I  suppose  he  saw  that  he  was  su- 
perseded." 

"  Mr.  Hicks  plays  well,"  said  Lydia,  judicially, 
"  but  he  does  n't  really  know  so  much  of  music  as 
Mr.  Dunham.'* 

"  No  ?  "  responded  Staniford,  with  irony.  "  I  will 
tell  Dunham.  No  doubt  he  's  been  suffering  the 
pangs  ot  professional  jealousy.  That  must  be  the 
reason  why  he  keeps  away." 

"  Keeps  away?  "  asked  Lydia. 

"  Now  I  Ve  made  an  ass  of  myself  I "  thought 
Staniford.  "  You  said  that  he  seemed  to  have  lost 
his  interest,"  he  answered  her. 

"  Oh !  Yes !  "  assented  Lydia.  And  then  she 
remained  rather  distraught,  pulling  at  the  ruffling 
of  her  dress. 

"  Dunham  is  a  very  accomplished  man,"  said 
Staniford,  finding  the  usual  satisfaction  in  pressing 
his  breast  against  the  thorn.  "  He  's  a  great  favorite 
in  society.  He  's  up  to  no  end  of  things."  Stam- 
ford uttered  these  praises  in  a  curiously  bitter  tone 
*  He 's  a  capital  talker.  Don't  you  think  he  talki 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK       151 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  suppose  I  have  n't  seen  enough 
people  to  be  a  good  judge." 

"  Well,  you  've  seen  enough  people  to  know  that 
he  *s  very  good  looking  ?  " 

"Yes?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  don't  think  him 
good  looking  ?  " 

"  No,  —  oh,  no,  I  mean  —  that  is  —  I  don't  know 
anything  about  his  looks.  But  he  resembles  a  lady 
who  used  to  come  from  Boston,  summers.  I  thought 
he  must  be  her  brother." 

"  Oh,  then  you  think  he  looks  effeminate  !  "  cried 
Staniford,  with  inner  joy.  "  I  assure  you,"  he  added 
with  solemnity,  "  Dunham  is  one  of  the  manliest 
fellows  in  the  world  !  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

Staniford  rose.  He  was  smiling  gayly  as  he  looked 
over  the  broad  stretch  of  empty  deck,  and  down 
into  Lydia's  eyes.  "  Would  n't  you  like  to  take  a 
turn,  now?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  promptly,  rising  and  arranging 
her  wrap  across  her  shoulders,  so  as  to  leave  her 
hands  free.  She  laid  one  hand  in  his  arm  and 
gathered  her  skirt  with  the  other,  and  they  swept 
round  together  for  the  start  and  confronted  Hicks. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Lydia,  with  what  seemed  dismay, 
4  1  promised  Mr.  Hicks  to  practice  a  song  with 
lim."  She  did  not  try  to  release  her  hand  from 
Stamford's  arm,  but  was  letting  it  linger  then 
rreaolutely 


152       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Staniford  dropped  his  arm,  and  let  her  hand  fall 
He  bowed  with  icy  stiffness,  and  said,  with  a 
courtesy  so  fierce  that  Mr.  Hicks,  on  whom  he 
glared  as  he  spoke,  quailed  before  it,  "I  yield  to 
four  prior  engagement." 


XIV 

IT  was  nothing  to  Stamford  that  she  should 
promised  Hicks  to  practice  a  song  with  him,  and  no 
process  of  reasoning  could  have  made  it  otherwise. 
The  imaginary  opponent  with  whom  he  scornfully 
argued  the  matter  had  not  a  word  for  himself. 
Neither  could  the  young  girl  answer  anything  to 
the  cutting  speeches  which  he  mentally  made  her 
as  he  sat  alone  chewing  the  end  of  his  cigar ;  and 
he  was  not  moved  by  the  imploring  looks  which  his 
fancy  painted  in  her  face,  when  he  made  believe 
that  she  had  meekly  returned  to  offer  him  some 
sort  of  reparation.  Why  should  she  excuse  her- 
self ?  he  asked.  It  was  he  who  ought  to  excuse 
himself  for  having  been  in  the  way.  The  dialogue 
went  on  at  length,  with  every  advantage  to  the 
inventor. 

He  was  finally  aware  of  some  one  standing  near 
and  looking  down  at  him.  It  was  the  second  mate, 
who  supported  himself  in  a  conversational  posture 
by  the  hand  which  he  stretched  to  the  shrouds 
>bove  their  heads.  "Are  you  a  good  sailor,  Mr. 
Staniford?"  he  inquired.  He  and  Staniford  were 
friends  in  their  way,  and  had  talked  together  be- 
loie  this. 


L54       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Do  you  mean  seasickness  ?  Why  ?  "  Staniford 
looked  up  at  the  mate's  face. 

"  Well,  we  're  going  to  get  it,  I  guess,  before  long. 
We  shall  soon  be  off  the  Spanish  coast.  We  Ve  had 
ft  great  run  so  far." 

"  If  it  comes  we  must  stand  it.  But  I  make  it  * 
rule  never  to  be  seasick  beforehand." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  one  to  borrow  trouble,  either 
It  don't  run  in  the  family.  Most  of  us  like  to 
chance  things.  I  chanced  it  for  the  whole  war,  and 
I  come  out  all  right.  Sometimes  it  don't  work  so 
well." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Staniford,  who  knew  that  this  was 
a  leading  remark,  but  forbore,  as  he  knew  Mason 
wished,  to  follow  it  up  directly. 

"  One  of  us  chanced  it  once  too  often,  and  of 
course  it  was  a  woman." 

"The  risk?" 

"  Not  the  risk.  My  oldest  sister  tried  tamin'  a 
tiger.  Ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred,  a  tiger 
won't  tame  worth  a  cent.  But  her  pet  was  such  a 
lamb  most  the  while  that  she  guessed  she  'd  chance 
it.  It  did  n't  work.  She  's  at  home  with  mother 
now,  —  three  children,  of  course,  —  and  he  's  in 
hell,  I  s'pose.  He  was  killed  'long-side  o'  me  at 
Gettysburg.  Ike  was  a  good  fellow  when  he  was 
lober.  But  my  souls,  the  life  he  led  that  poor 
girl  I  Yes,  when  a  man  's  got  that  tiger  in  him, 
there  ought  to  be  some  quiet  little  war  round  for 
puttin'  him  out  of  his  misery."  Stanifoi  d  listened 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       155 

silently,  waiting  for  the  mate  to  make  the  applica 
tion  of  his  grim  allegory.  "  I  s'pose  I  'm  preju- 
diced ;  but  I  do  hate  a  drunkard ;  and  when  I 
gee  one  of  'em  makin'  up  to  a  girl,  I  want  to  go 
to  her,  and  tell  her  she  'd  better  take  a  real  tiger 
out  the  show,  at  once." 

The  idea  which  these  words  suggested  sent 
thrill  to  Staniford's  heart,  but  he  continued  silent, 
and  the  mate  went  on,  with  the  queer  smile,  which 
could  be  inferred  rather  than  seen,  working  under 
his  mustache  and  the  humorous  twinkle  of  his 
eyes  evanesce ntly  evident  under  his  cap  peak. 

"  I  don't  go  round  criticism'  my  superior  officers, 
and  I  don't  say  anything  about  the  responsibility 
the  old  man  took.  The  old  man  's  all  right,  accord- 
in'  to  his  lights ;  he  ain't  had  a  tiger  in  the  family. 
But  if  that  chap  was  to  fall  overboard,  —  well,  I 
don't  know  how  long  it  would  take  to  lower  a  boat, 
if  I  was  to  listen  to  my  conscience.  There  ain't 
really  any  help  for  him.  He  's  begun  too  young 
ever  to  get  over  it.  He  won't  be  ashore  at  Try- 
East  an  hour  before  he  's  drunk.  If  our  men  had 
any  spirits  amongst  'em  that  could  be  begged, 
bought,  or  borrowed,  he  'd  be  drunk  now,  right 
nlong.  Well,  I  'm  off  watch,"  said  the  mate,  at  the 
tap  of  bells.  "  Guess  we  '11  get  our  little  gulr 
pretty  soon." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Staniford,  who  remained  pon- 
Jering.  He  presently  rose,  and  walked  up  and  down 
the  deck.  He  could  hear  Lydia  and  Hicks  trying 


156       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

that  song :  now  the  voice,  and  now  the  flute ;  then 
both  together ;  and  presently  a  burst  of  laughter. 
He  began  to  be  angry  with  her  ignorance  and  inex- 
perience. It  became  intolerable  to  him  that  a 
woman  should  be  going  about  with  no  more  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  than  a  child,  and  entangling  her- 
self in  relations  with  all  sorts  of  people.  It  waa 
shocking  to  think  of  that  little  sot,  who  had  now 
made  his  infirmity  known  to  all  the  ship's  company, 
admitted  to  association  with  her  which  looked  to 
common  eyes  like  courtship.  From  the  mate's  in- 
sinuation that  she  ought  to  be  warned,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  they  thought  her  interested  in  Hicks; 
and  the  mate  had  come,  like  Dunham,  to  leave  the 
responsibility  with  Staniford.  It  only  wanted  now 
that  Captain  Jenness  should  appear  with  his  ap- 
peal, direct  or  indirect. 

While  Staniford  walked  up  and  down,  and  scorned 
and  raged  at  the  idea  that  he  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  matter,  the  singing  and  fluting  came  to  a 
pause  in  the  cabin ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  next 
tune,  which  brought  him  to  the  head  of  the  gang- 
way stairs,  he  met  Lydia  emerging.  He  stopped 
and  spoke  to  her,  having  instantly  resolved,  at  sight 
of  her,  not  to  do  so. 

"  Have  you  come  up  for  breath,  like  a  mer- 
maid ?  "  he  asked.  "  Not  that  I  'm  sure  mermaidi 
do." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  think  I  dropped  my 
handkerchief  where  we  were  sitting." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK.       157 

Staniford  suspected,  with  a  sudden  return  to  a 
sheory  of  her  which  he  had  already  entertained, 
that  she  had  not  done  so.  But  she  went  lightly  by 
him,  where  he  stood  stolid,  and  picked  it  up  ;  and 
now  he  suspected  that  she  had  dropped  it  there  on 
purpose. 

"  You  have  come  back  to  walk  with  me  ?  " 

"  No  ! "  said  the  girl  indignantly.  "  I  have  not 
come  back  to  walk  with  you  I  "  She  waited  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  she  burst  out  with,  "  How  dare  you 
say  such  a  thing  to  me  ?  What  right  have  you  to 
speak  to  me  so  ?  What  have  I  done  to  make  you 
think  that  I  would  come  back  to  "  — 

The  fierce  vibration  in  her  voice  made  him  know 
that  her  eyes  were  burning  upon  him  and  her  lips 
trembling.  He  shrank  before  her  passion  as  a  man 
must  before  the  justly  provoked  wrath  of  a  woman, 
or  even  of  a  small  girl. 

"  I  stated  a  hope,  not  a  fact,"  he  said  in  meek 
uncandor.  "  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  have 
done  so?" 

"  I  don't  —  I  don't  understand  you,"  panted 
Lydia,  confusedly  arresting  her  bolts  in  mid-course. 

Staniford  pursued  his  guilty  advantage ;  it  was 
uis  only  chance.  "  I  gave  way  to  Mr.  Hicks  when 
V  ou  had  an  engagement  with  me.  I  thought  —  you 
would  come  back  to  keep  your  engagement."  He 
was  still  very  meek. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  said  with  self-reproach  that 
r  juld  have  melted  the  heart  of  any  one  but  a  man 


158  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

who  was  in  the  wrong,  and  was  trying  to  get  out  ol 

it  at  all  hazards.     "  I  did  n't  know  what  you  meant 
_ „  j  » 

"  If  I  had  meant  what  you  thought,"  interrupted 
Stamford  nobly,  for  he  could  now  afford  to  be  gen- 
erous, "I  should  have  deserved  much  more  than 
you  said.  But  I  hope  you  won't  punish  my  awk 
wardness  by  refusing  to  walk  with  me." 

He  knew  that  she  regarded  him  earnestly  before 
she  said,  "  I  must  get  my  shawl  and  hat." 

"  Let  me  go  ! "  he  entreated. 

"  You  could  n't  find  them,"  she  answered,  as  she 
vanished  past  him.  She  returned,  and  promptly 
laid  her  hand  in  his  proffered  arm  ;  it  was  as  if  she 
were  eager  to  make  him  amends  for  her  harshness. 

Staniford  took  her  hand  out,  and  held  it  while  he 
bowed  low  toward  her.  "  I  declare  myself  satis- 
fied." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Lydia,  in  alarm  and 
mortification. 

"  When  a  subject  has  been  personally  aggrieved 
by  his  sovereign,  his  honor  is  restored  if  they 
merely  cross  swords." 

The  girl  laughed  her  delight  in  the  extravagance. 
She  must  have  been  more  or  less  than  woman  not 
to  have  found  his  Battery  delicious.  "  But  we  are 
:epubl'cans  !  "  she  w  id  in  evasion. 

"  To  be   sure,  we  9 re  republicans.     Well,  then< 
Miss  Blood,  answer  yorr  free  and  equal  one  thing 
«  it  a  case  of  conscience  *  " 


THE  LADY   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK. 

"  How  ?  "  she  asked,  and  Staniford  did  not  recoil 
*t  the  rusticity.  This  how  for  what,  and  the  inter- 
rogative yes,  still  remained.  Since  their  first  walk, 
she  had  not  wanted  to  know,  in  however  great  sur- 
p~ise  she  found  herself. 

"  Are  you  going  to  walk  with  me  because  you 
had  promised?'* 

"  Why,  of  course,"  faltered  Lydia. 

"  That  is  n't  enough." 

"  Not  enough  ?  " 

"  Not  enough.  You  must  walk  with  me  because 
you  like  to  do  so." 

Lydia  was  silent. 

"  Do  you  like  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  can't  answer  you,"  she  said,  releasing  her 
hand  from  him. 

"  It  was  not  fair  to  ask  you.  What  I  wish  to  do 
is  to  restore  the  original  status.  You  have  kept 
your  engagement  to  walk  with  me,  and  your  con- 
science is  clear.  Now,  Miss  Blood,  may  I  have 
your  company  for  a  little  stroll  over  the  deck  of  the 
Aroostook  ?  "  He  made  her  another  very  low  bow. 

"  What  must  I  say  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  joyously. 

"  That  depends  upon  whether  you  consent.  If 
you  consent,  you  must  say,  '  I  shall  be  very  glad.' ' 

"  And  if  I  don't  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  put  any  such  decision  into  words." 

Lydia  mused  a  moment.  "I  shall  be  very  glad," 
me  said,  and  put  her  hand  again  into  the  arm  b* 
•ffsred. 


160       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

As  happens  after  such  a  passage  they  were  at 
first  silent,  while  they  walked  up  and  down. 

"If  this  fine  weather  holds,"  said  Staniford,  "and 
jron  continue  as  obliging  as  you  are  to-night,  you 
3an  say,  when  people  ask  you  how  you  went  to  Eu- 
rope, that  you  walked  the  greater  part  of  the  way 
Shall  you  continue  so  obliging  ?  Will  you  walk 
with  me  every  fine  night  ?  "  pursued  Staniford. 

"Do  you  think  I  'd  better  say  so?  "  she  asked, 
with  the  joy  still  in  her  voice. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  decide  for  you.  I  merely  formulate 
your  decisions  after  you  reach  them,  —  if  they  're 
favorable." 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  this  one  ?  " 

"  Is  it  favorable  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  would  formulate  it."  She  laughed 
again,  and  Staniford  started  as  one  does  when  a 
nebulous  association  crystallizes  into  a  distinctly  re- 
membered fact. 

"  What  a  curious  laugh  you  have !  "  he  said. 
"  It 's  like  a  nun's  laugh.  Once  in  France  I  lodged 
near  the  garden  of  a  convent  where  the  nuns  kept 
a  girls'  school,  and  I  used  to  hear  them  laugh.  You 
never  happened  to  be  a  nun,  Miss  Blood  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed !  "  cried  Lydia,  as  if  scandalized. 

"  Oh,  I  merely  meant  in  some  previous  existence. 
Of  course,  I  did  n't  suppose  there  was  a  convent  in 
South  Bradfield."  He  felt  that  the  girl  did  not 
^uite  like  the  little  slight  his  irony  cast  upon  South 
Bradfield,  OP  rather  upon  her  for  never  having  beeu 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       161 

anywhere  else.  He  hastened  to  say,  "I'm  sure 
that  in  the  life  before  this  you  were  of  the  South 
•ome  where." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Lydia,  interested  and  pleased  again 
aa  one  must  be  in  romantic  talk  about  one's  self, 
"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

He  bent  a  little  over  toward  her,  so  as  to  loofc 
into  the  face  she  instinctively  averted,  while  she 
could  not  help  glancing  at  him  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye.  "  You  have  the  color  and  the  light  of  the 
South,"  he  said.  "  When  you  get  to  Italy,  you 
will  live  in  a  perpetual  mystification.  You  will  go 
about  in  a  dream  of  some  self  of  yours  that  was 
native  there  in  other  days.  You  will  find  yourself 
retrospectively  related  to  the  olive  faces  and  the 
dark  eyes  you  meet ;  you  will  recognize  sisters  and 
cousins  in  the  patrician  ladies  when  you  see  their 
portraits  in  the  palaces  where  you  used  to  live  io 
such  state." 

Staniford  spiced  his  flatteries  with  open  bur- 
lesque; the  girl  entered  into  his  fantastic  humor, 
"  But  if  I  was  a  nun  ?  "  she  asked,  gayly. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot.  You  were  a  nun.  There  was  a 
nun  in  Venice  once,  about  two  hundred  years  agov 
when  you  lived  there,  and  a  young  English  lord 
who  was  passing  through  the  town  was  taken  to 
the  convent  to  hear  her  sing ;  for  she  was  not  only 
of  '  an  admirable  beauty,'  as  he  says,  but  sang  4  ex 
Jremely  well.  She  sang  to  him  through  the  grat- 
ing of  the  convent,  and  when  she  stopped  he  said, 
u 


162       THE  LADY  OF  THE  ASOOSTOOK. 

Die  whensoever  you  will,  you  need  to  change 
neither  voice  nor  face  to  be  an  angel ! '  Do  you 
think — do  you  dimly  recollect  anything  that  makes 
you  think  —  it  might —  Consider  carefully:  tht 
singing  extremely  well,  and "  —  He  leant  over 
&gain,  and  looked  up  into  her  face,  which  again  she 
oould  not  wholly  withdraw. 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  said,  still  in  his  mood. 

"  Well,  you  must  allow  it  was  a  pretty  speech." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Lydia,  with  sudden  gravity,  in 
which  there  seemed  to  Stamford  a  tender  insinua- 
tion of  reproach,  "  he  was  laughing  at  her." 

"  If  he  was,  he  was  properly  punished.  He  went 
on  to  Rome,  and  when  he  came  back  to  Venice  the 
beautiful  nun  was  dead.  He  thought  that  his  words 
1  seemed  fatal.'  Do  you  suppose  it  would  kill  you 
now  to  be  jested  with  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  people  like  it  generally." 

"  Why,  Miss  Blood,  you  are  intense  I  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that,"  said 
Lydia. 

"  You  like  to  take  things  seriously.  You  can't 
bear  to  think  that  people  are  not  the  least  in  ear- 
nest, even  when  they  least  seem  so." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  thoughtfully,  "  perhaps 
that 's  true.  Should  you  like  to  be  made  fun  of, 
vourself  ?  " 

"  I  should  n't  mind  it,  I  fancy,  though  it  would 
depend  a  great  deal  upon  who  made  fun  of  me.     J 
that  women  always   laugh   at   men,  —  at 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       163 

their  clumsiness,  their  want  of  tact,  the  fit  cf  their 
elothes." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  should  not  do  that  with  anj 
one  I "  — 

"You  liked?  Oh,  none  of  them  lo!"  one-* 
Stamford. 

"  I  was  not  going  to  say  that,"  faltered  the  girl 

"  What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

She  waited  a  moment.  "  Yes,  I  was  going  to 
say  that,"  she  assented  with  a  sigh  of  helpless  ve- 
racity. "  What  makes  you  laugh  ?  "  she  asked,  in 
distress. 

"  Something  I  like.  I  'm  different  from  you  :  I 
laugh  at  what  I  like ;  I  like  your  truthfulness,  — 
it 's  charming." 

"  I  did  n't  know  that  truth  need  be  charming." 

"  It  had  better  be,  in  women,  if  it 's  to  keep  even 
with  the  other  thing."  Lydia  seemed  shocked; 
ghe  made  a  faint,  involuntary  motion  to  withdraw 
her  hand,  but  he  closed  his  arm  upon  it.  "  Don't 
condemn  me  for  thinking  that  fibbing  is  charming, 
I  should  n't  like  it  at  all  in  you.  Should  you  in 
me?" 

"  I  should  n't  in  any  one,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Then  what  is  it  you  dislike  in  me  ?  "  he  sud« 
ienly  demanded. 

"  I  did  n't  say  that  I  disliked  anything  in  you." 

"  But  you  have  made  fun  of  something  in  me  ? ' 

"No,  no!" 

**  Then  it  was  n't  the  stirring  of  a  guilty  COB 


164  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

science  when  you  asked  me  whether  I  should  like 
to  be  made  fun  of  ?  I  took  it  for  granted  you  'd 
been  doing  it." 

"You  are  very  suspicious/'* 

"  Yes ;  and  what  else  ?  " 

**  Oh,  you  like  to  know  just  what  every  one 
thinks  and  feels." 

"  Go  on !  "  cried  Staniford.  "  Analyze  me,  form 
alate  me  1  " 

"  That  >s  all." 

44  AU  I  come  to  ?  " 

"  All  I  have  to  say." 

"  That 's  very  little.  Now,  I  '11  begin  on  you, 
You  don't  care  what  people  think  or  feel." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do.     I  care  too  much." 

"  Do  you  care  what  I  think  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  I  think  you  're  too  unsuspicious." 

44  Ought  I  to  suspect  somebody  ? "  she  asked, 
lightly. 

"  Oh,  that 's  the  way  with  all  your  sex.  One 
asks  you  to  be  suspicious,  and  you  ask  whom  you 
Bhall  suspect.  You  can  do  nothing  in  the  abstract. 
I  should  like  to  be  suspicious  for  you.  Will  you 
let  me?" 

44  Oh,  yes,  if  you  like  to  be." 

44  Thanks.     I  shall  be  terribly  vigilant,  —  a  per- 
fect dragon.      And    you  1-eally   invest    me 
authority  ?  " 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       166 

"  That 's  charming."  Stamford  drew  a  long 
oreath.  After  a  space  of  musing,  he  said,  "I 
thought  I  should  be  able  to  begin  by  attacking 
gome  one  else,  but  I  must  commence  at  home,  and 
denounce  myself  as  quite  unworthy  of  walking  to 
and  fro,  and  talking  nonsense  to  you.  You  must 
beware  of  me,  Miss  Blood." 

"Why?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  I  am  very  narrow-minded  and  prejudiced,  and 
I  have  violent  antipathies.  I  should  n't  be  able  to 
do  justice  to  any  one  I  disliked." 

"  I  think  that 's  the  trouble  with  all  of  us,"  said 
Lydia. 

"  Oh,  but  only  in  degree.  I  should  not  allow,  ii 
I  could  help  it,  a  man  whom  I  thought  shabby,  and 
coarse  at  heart,  the  privilege  of  speaking  to  any 
one  I  valued,  —  to  my  sister,  for  instance.  It 
would  shock  me  to  find  her  have  any  taste  in  com* 
mon  with  such  a  man,  or  amused  by  him.  Don't 
you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  by 
some  infinitely  subtle  and  unconscious  affinition 
she  relaxed  toward  him  as  they  walked.  This  was 
incomparably  sweet  and  charming  to  Staniford,  — 
too  sweet  as  recognition  of  his  protecting  friend 
ship  to  be  questioned  as  anything  else.  He  felt 
sure  that  she  had  taken  his  meaning,  and  he  rested 
content  from  further  trouble  in  regard  to  what  it 
l?ould  have  been  impossible  to  express.  Her  tacit 
•onfidence  touched  a  kindred  spring  in  him,  and  h« 


166       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

began  to  talk  to  her  of  himself:  not  of  his  charao 
fcer  or  opinions,  —  they  had  already  gone  over  them, 
—  but  of  his  past  life,  and  his  future.  Their 
strangeness  to  her  gave  certain  well-worn  topics 
novelty,  and  the  familiar  project  of  a  pastoral  ca- 
reer in  the  far  West  invested  itself  with  a  color  of 
romance  which  it  had  not  worn  before.  She  tried 
to  remember,  at  his  urgence,  something  about  hei 
shildhood  in  California ;  and  she  told  him  a  great 
deal  more  about  South  Bradfield.  She  described 
its  characters  and  customs,  and,  from  no  vantage- 
ground  or  stand-point  but  her  native  feeling  of  their 
oddity,  and  what  seemed  her  sympathy  with  him, 
made  him  see  them  as  one  might  whose  life  had 
not  been  passed  among  them.  Then  they  began  to 
compare  their  own  traits,  and  amused  themselves 
to  find  how  many  they  had  in  common.  Stamford 
related  a  singular  experience  of  his  on  a  former 
voyage  to  Europe,  when  he  dreamed  of  a  collision, 
and  woke  to  hear  a  great  trampling  and  uproar  on 
deck,  which  afterwards  turned  out  to  have  been 
caused  by  their  bare  escape  from  running  into  an 
iceberg.  She  said  that  she  had  had  strange 
dreams,  too,  but  mostly  when  she  was  a  little  girl ; 
once  she  had  had  a  presentiment  that  troubled  her, 
but  it  did  not  come  true.  They  both  said  they  did 
aot  believe  in  such  things,  and  agreed  that  it  was 
only  people's  love  of  mystery  that  kept  them  no- 
ticed. He  permitted  himself  to  help  her,  with  his 
iisengaged  hand,  to  draw  her  shawl  closer  about 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       167 

ihe  shoulder  that  was  away  from  him.  He  gave 
fche  action  a  philosophical  and  impersonal  character 
by  saying  immediately  afterwards :  "  The  sea  is 
really  the  only  mystery  left  us,  and  that  will  never 
be  explored.  They  circumnavigate  the  whole 
globe,"  —  here  he  put  the  gathered  shawl  into  the 
fingers  which  she  stretched  through  his  arm  to  take 
it,  and  she  said,  "  Oh,  thank  you  ! "  —  "  but  they 
don't  describe  the  sea.  War  and  plague  and  fam- 
ine submit  to  the  ameliorations  of  science,"  —  the 
closely  drawn  shawl  pressed  her  against  his  shoul- 
der ;  his  mind  wandered ;  he  hardly  knew  what  he 
was  saying,  —  "  but  the  one  utterly  inexorable  ca- 
lamity —  the  same  now  as  when  the  first  sail  was 
spread — is  a  shipwreck." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  inspiration.  And 
now  they  walked  back  and  forth  in  silence  broken 
only  by  a  casual  word  or  desultory  phrase.  Once 
Stanif ord  had  thought  the  conditions  of  these  prom  • 
enades  perilously  suggestive  of  love-making  ;  an- 
other time  he  had  blamed  himself  for  not  think- 
ing of  this;  now  he  neither  thought  nor  blamed 
himself  for  not  thinking.  The  fact  justified  itself, 
as  if  it  had  been  the  one  perfectly  right  and  wise 
thing  in  a  world  where  all  else  might  be  questioned, 

"  Is  n't  it  pretty  late  ?  "  she  asked,  at  last. 

"  If  you  're  tired,  we  '11  sit  down,"  he  said. 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  "  she  persisted. 

'Must  I  look?"  he  pleaded.  They  went  to  a 
an  tern,  and  he  took  out  his  watch  and  sprang  tbe 


168  THE  LADT    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

3ase  open.  "  Look  !  "  he  said.  "  I  sacrifice  myself 
an  the  altar  of  truth."  They  bent  their  heads  low 
together  over  the  watch  ;  it  was  not  easy  to  make 
out  the  time.  "  It 's  nine  o'clock,"  said  Staniford. 

"  It  can't  be  ;  it  was  half  past  when  I  came  up," 
answered  Lydia. 

"  One  hand  's  at  twelve  and  the  other  at  nine," 
he  said,  conclusively. 

"  Oh,  then  it 's  a  quarter  to  twelve."  She  caught 
away  her  hand  from  his  arm,  and  fled  to  the  gang- 
way. "  I  did  n't  dream  it  was  so  late." 

The  pleasure  which  her  confession  brought  to  his 
face  faded  at  sight  of  Hicks,  who  was  turning  the 
last  pages  of  a  novel  by  the  cabin  lamp,  as  he  fol- 
lowed Lydia  in.  It  was  the  book  that  Staniford 
had  given  her. 

"  Hullo  I  "  said  Hicks,  with  companionable  ease, 
looking  up  at  her.  "  Been  having  quite  a  tramp." 

She  did  not  seem  troubled  by  the  familiarity  of 
%n  address  that  incensed  Staniford  almost  to  the 
point  of  taking  Hicks  fiom  his  seat,  and  tossing 
him  to  the  other  end  of  the  cabin.  "  Oh,  you  've 
jinished  my  book,"  she  said.  "  You  must  tell  me 
how  you  like  it,  to-morrow." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Hicks.  "  I  'm  going  to  be 
teasick  to-morrow.  The  captain  's  been  shaking  his 
bead  over  the  barometer  and  powwowing  with  the 
first  officer.  Something  's  up,  and  I  guess  it 's  a 
gale.  Good-by ;  I  shan't  see  you  again  for  a  weelr 


THE  LADY  OP  THE  AROOSTOOK.       169 

He  nodded  jocosely  to  Lydia,  and  dropped  his 
ayes  again  to  his  book,  ignoring  Stamford's  pres« 
ence.  The  latter  stood  a  moment  breathing  quick 
then  he  controlled  himself  and  went  into  his  room. 
His  coming  roused  Dunham,  who  looked  up  from 
his  pillow.  "  What  time  is  it?  "  he  asked,  stupidly 

"  Twelve,"  said  Staniford. 

"  Had  a  pleasant  walk  ?  " 

"If  you  still  think,"  said  Staniford,  savagely,, 
41  that  she 's  painfully  interested  in  you,  you  can 
make  your  mind  easy.  She  does  n't  care  for  eithei 
of  us." 

"  Either  of  us  ?  "  echoed  Dunham.  He  roused 
himself. 

44  Oh,  go  to  sleep;  go  to  sleep  !  "  cried  Staniford 


XV 

THX  foreboded  storm  did  not  come  so  soon  as  aad 
t>een  feared,  but  the  beautiful  weather  which  had 
lasted  so  long  was  lost  in  a  thickened  sky  and  a  sul- 
len sea.  The  weather  had  changed  with  Stamford, 
too.  The  morning  after  the  events  last  celebrated, 
he  did  not  respond  to  the  glance  which  Lydia 
gave  him  when  they  met,  and  he  hardened  his 
heart  to  her  surprise,  and  shunned  being  alone  with 
her.  He  would  not  admit  to  himself  any  reason 
for  his  attitude,  and  he  could  not  have  explained  to 
her  the  mystery  that  at  first  visibly  grieved  her, 
and  then  seemed  merely  to  benumb  her.  But  the 
moment  came  when  he  ceased  to  take  a  certain 
cruel  pleasure  in  it,  and  he  approached  her  one 
morning  on  deck,  where  she  stood  holding  fast  to 
the  railing  where  she  usually  sat,  and  said,  as  if 
ihere  had  been  no  interval  of  estrangement  between, 
them,  but  still  coldly,  "  We  have  had  our  last  walk 
lor  the  present,  Miss  Blood.  I  hope  you  will 
grieve  a  little  for  my  loss." 

She  turned  on  him  a  look  that  cut  him  to  the 
heart,  with  what  he  fancied  its  reproach  and  its 
wonder.  She  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  then  she 
lid  not  reply  to  his  hinted  question. 

"  Mr.  Stamford,"  she  began.     It  was  the  second 


THE  LADY    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  171 

time  he  had  heard  her  pronounce  his  name  ;  h« 
distinctly  remembered  the  first. 

"Well?"  he  said. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  lending  that 
book  to  Mr.  Hicks.  I  ought  to  have  asked  you 


"  Oh,  no,"  said  Staniford.     "  It  was  yours." 

"  You  gave  it  to  me,"  she  returned. 

"  Well,  then,  it  was  yours,  —  to  keep,  to  lend,  to 
throw  away." 

"  And  you  did  n't  mind  my  lending  it  to  him  ?  " 
she  pursued.  "  I  "  — 

She  stopped,  and  Staniford  hesitated,  too.  Then 
he  said,  "  I  did  n't  dislike  your  lending  it  ;  I  dis- 
liked his  having  it.  I  will  acknowledge  that." 

She  looked  up  at  him  as  if  she  were  going  to 
speak,  but  checked  herself,  and  glanced  away.  The 
ship  was  plunging  heavily,  and  the  livid  waves 
were  racing  before  the  wind.  The  horizon  was  lit 
with  a  yellow  brightness  in  the  quarter  to  which 
she  turned,  and  a  pallid  gleam  defined  her  profile. 
Captain  Jenness  was  walking  fretfully  to  and  fro  : 
he  glanced  now  at  the  yellow  glare,  and  now  cast 
his  eye  aloft  at  the  shortened  sail.  While  Stam- 
ford stood  questioning  whether  she  meant  to  say 
anything  more,  or  whether,  having  discharged  her 
conscience  of  an  imagined  offense,  she  had  now 
reached  one  of  her  final,  precipitous  silences,  Cap- 
tain Jenness  suddenly  approached  them,  and  said  to 
him,  "I  guess  you  'd  better  go  below  with  Misw 
Blood." 


172       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

The  storm  that  followed  had  its  hazards,  but 
Stamford's  consciousness  was  confined  to  its  discom- 
forts. The  day  came,  and  then  the  dark  came,  and 
both  in  due  course  went,  and  came  again.  Where 
he  lay  in  his  berth,  and  whirled  and  swung,  and 
rose  and  sank,  as  lonely  as  a  planetary  fragment 
tossing  in  space,  he  heard  the  noises  of  the  life  with- 
out. Amidst  the  straining  of  the  ship,  which  was 
like  the  sharp  sweep  of  a  thunder-shower  on  the 
deck  overhead,  there  plunged  at  irregular  intervals 
the  wild  trample  of  heavily-booted  feet,  and  now 
and  then  the  voices  of  the  crew  answering  the 
shouted  orders  made  themselves  hollowly  audible, 
In  the  cabin  there  was  talking,  and  sometimes  even 
laughing.  Sometimes  he  heard  the  click  of  knives 
and  forks,  the  sardonic  rattle  of  crockery.  After 
the  first  insane  feeling  that  somehow  he  must  get 
ashore  and  escape  from  his  torment,  he  hardened 
himself  to  it  through  an  immense  contempt,  equally 
insane,  for  the  stupidity  of  the  sea,  its  insensate 
uproar,  its  blind  and  ridiculous  and  cruel  mischiev- 
ousness.  Except  for  this  delirious  scorn  he  was  a 
surface  of  ^^rfect  passivity. 

Dunham,  after  a  day  of  prostration,  had  risen, 
and  had  perhaps  shortened  his  anguish  by  his  reso- 
.ution.  He  had  since  taken  up  his  quarters  on  a 
locker  in  the  cabin ;  he  looked  in  now  and  then 
apon  Staniford,  with  a  cup  of  tea,  or  a  suggestion 
of  something  light  to  eat ;  once  he  even  dared  to 
boast  of  the  sublimity  of  the  ocean.  Staniford 


THE  LADY  OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  173 

stared  at  him  with  eyes  of  lack-lustre  indifference, 
and  waited  for  him  to  be  gone.  But  he  lingered  to 
say,  "  You  would  laugh  to  see  what  a  sea-bird  our 
lady  is  I  She  has  n't  been  sick  a  minute.  And 
Hicks,  you  '11  be  glad  to  know,  is  behaving  himself 
very  well.  Really,  I  don't  think  we  Ve  done  the 
fellow  justice.  I  think  you  've  overshadowed  him, 
and  that  he  's  needed  your  absence  to  show  himself 
to  advantage." 

Stamford  disdained  any  comment  on  this  except 
a  fierce  "  Humph  !  "  and  dismissed  Dunham  by 
turning  his  face  to  the  wall.  He  refused  to  think 
of  what  he  had  said.  He  lay  still  and  suffered  in- 
definitely, and  no  longer  waited  for  the  end  of  the 
storm.  There  had  been  times  when  he  thought 
with  acquiescence  of  going  to  the  bottom,  as  a  prob- 
able conclusion ;  now  he  did  not  expect  anything. 
At  last,  one  night,  he  felt  by  inexpressibly  minute 
degrees  something  that  seemed  surcease  of  his  mis- 
ery. It  might  have  been  the  end  of  all  things,  for 
all  he  cared ;  but  as  the  lull  deepened,  he  slept 
without  knowing  what  it  was,  and  when  he  woke 
m  the  morning  he  found  the  Aroostook  at  anchor 
in  smooth  water. 

She  was  lying  in  the  roads  at  Gibraltar,  and  be- 
tore  her  towered  the  embattled  rock.  He  crawled 
on  deck  after  a  while.  The  captain  was  going 
ashore,  and  had  asked  such  of  his  passengers  aa 
'dked,  to  go  with  him  and  see  the  place.  When 
Stuniford  appeared,  Dunham  was  loyally  refusing 


174       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

to  leave  his  friend  till  lie  was  fairly  on  foot.  Ai 
sight  of  him  they  suspended  their  question  long 
enough  to  welcome  him  back  to  animation,  with  the 
patronage  with  which  well  people  hail  a  convales- 
cent. Lydia  looked  across  the  estrangement  of  the 
past  days  with  a  sort  of  inquiry,  and  Hicks  chose 
to  come  forward  and  accept  a  cold  touch  of  the 
hand  from  him.  Staniford  saw,  with  languid  ob- 
servance, that  Lydia  was  very  fresh  and  bright ; 
she  was  already  equipped  for  the  expedition,  and 
could  never  have  had  any  doubt  in  her  mind  aft 
to  going.  She  had  on  a  pretty  walking  dress 
which  he  had  not  seen  before,  and  a  hat  with  the 
rim  struck  sharply  upward  behind,  and  her  masses 
of  dense,  dull  black  hair  pulled  up  and  fastened 
somewhere  on  the  top  of  her  head.  Her  eyes  shyly 
sparkled  under  the  abrupt  descent  of  the  hat-brim 
over  her  forehead. 

His  contemptuous  rejection  of  the  character  of 
invalid  prevailed  with  Dunham ;  and  Staniford 
walked  to  another  part  of  the  ship,  to  cut  short  the 
talk  about  himself,  and  saw  them  row  away. 

"  Well,  you  've  had  a  pretty  tough  time,  they 
say,"  said  the  second  mate,  lounging  near  him. 
"  I  don't  see  any  fun  in  seasickness  myself" 

"  It 's  a  ridiculous  sort  of  misery,"  said  Stani 
ford. 

"  I  hope  we  shan't  have  anything  worse  on  board 
when  that  chap  gets  back.  The  old  man  thinks  he 
tan  keep  an  eye  on  him."  The  mate  was  looking 
tf tor  the  boat. 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  17& 

"  The  captain  says  he  has  n't  any  money,"  Stani« 
ford  remarked  carelessly.  The  mate  went  away 
without  saying  anything  more,  and  Stamford  re- 
turned to  the  cabin,  where  he  beheld  without  abhor- 
rence the  preparations  for  his  breakfast.  But  h« 
had  not  a  great  appetite,  in  spite  of  his  long  fast, 
He  found  himself  rather  light-headed,  and  came 
on  deck  again  after  a  while,  and  stretched  himself 
in  Hicks's  steamer  chair,  where  Lydia  usually  sat 
in  it.  He  fell  into  a  dull,  despairing  reverie,  in 
which  he  blamed  himself  for  not  having  been  more 
explicit  with  her.  He  had  merely  expressed  his 
dislike  of  Hicks ;  but  expressed  without  reasons  it 
was  a  groundless  dislike,  which  she  had  evidently 
not  understood,  or  had  not  cared  to  heed ;  and  since 
that  night,  now  so  far  away,  when  he  had  spoken 
to  her,  he  had  done  everything  he  could  to  harden 
her  against  himself.  He  had  treated  her  with  a 
stupid  cruelty,  which  a  girl  like  her  would  resent 
to  the  last ;  he  had  forced  her  to  take  refuge  in  the 
politeness  of  a  man  from  whom  he  was  trying  to 
keep  her. 

His  heart  paused  when  he  saw  the  boat  return- 
ing in  the  afternoon  without  Hicks.  The  others 
reported  that  they  had  separated  before  dinner,  and 
that  they  had  not  seen  him  since,  though  Captain 
Jenness  had  spent  an  hour  trying  to  look  him  up 
before  starting  back  to  the  ship.  The  captain  wore 
ft  look  of  guilty  responsibility,  mingled  with  intense 
ixasperation,  the  two  combining  in  as  much  hag- 


176       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

gardness  as  his  cheerful  visage  could  express.  UH 
he  's  here  by  six  o'clock,"  he  said,  grimly,  "  all  well 
and  good.  If  not,  the  Aroostook  sails,  any  way." 

Lydia  crept  timidly  below.  Staniford  complexly 
raged  to  see  that  the  anxiety  about  Hicks  had 
blighted  the  joy  of  the  day  for  her. 

"  How  the  deuce  could  he  get  about  without  any 
money  ?  "  he  demanded  of  Dunham,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone. 

Dunham  vainly  struggled  to  look  him  in  the  eye. 
"  Staniford,"  he  faltered,  with  much  more  culpa- 
bility than  some  criminals  would  confess  a  murder, 
"  I  lent  him  five  dollars  I  " 

"  You  lent  him  five  dollars ! "  gasped  Staniford. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dunham,  miserably  ;  "  he  got  me 
aside,  and  asked  me  for  it.  What  could  I  do? 
What  would  you  have  done  yourself  ?  " 

Staniford  made  no  answer.  He  walked  some 
paces  away,  and  then  returned  to  where  Dunham 
stood  helpless.  "  He  's  lying  about  there  dead- 
drunk,  somewhere,  I  suppose.  By  Heaven,  I  could 
almost  wish  he  was.  He  could  n't  come  back,  then, 
at  any  rate." 

The  time  lagged  along  toward  the  moment  ap- 
pointed by  the  captain,  and  the  preparations  for  the 
ship's  departure  were  well  advanced,  when  a  boat 
was  seen  putting  out  from  shore  with  two  rowers, 
and  rapidly  approaching  the  Aroostook.  In  the 
item,  as  it  drew  nearer,  the  familiar  figure  of  Hickf 
iificovered  itself  in  the  act  of  waving  a  handkerchief 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       177 

He  scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  ship  in  excellent 
spirits,  and  gave  Dunham  a  detailed  account  of  hia 
adventures  since  they  had  parted.  As  always  hap- 
pens with  such  scapegraces,  he  seemed  to  have  had 
A  good  time,  however  he  had  spoiled  the  pleasure 
of  ihe  others.  At  tea,  when  Lydia  had  gone  away, 
be  clapped  down  a  sovereign  near  Dunham's  plate. 
"  Your  five  dollars,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  how  "  —  Dunham  began. 

"  How  did  I  get  on  without  it  ?  My  dear  boy,  I 
Bold  my  watch !  A  ship's  time  is  worth  no  more 
than  a  setting  hen's,  —  eh,  captain? — and  why 
take  note  of  it  ?  Besides,  I  always  like  to  pay  my 
debts  promptly :  there 's  nothing  mean  about  me. 
f  'm  not  going  ashore  again  without  my  pocket- 
book,  I  can  tell  you."  He  winked  shamelessly  at 
Captain  Jenness.  "If  you  hadn't  been  along, 
Dunham,  I  could  n't  have  made  a  raise,  I  sup- 
pose. You  would  n't  have  lent  me  five  dollars, 
Captain  Jenness." 

"  No,  I  would  n't,"  said  the  captain,  bluntly. 

"  And  I  believe  you  'd  have  sailed  without  me,  if 
f  had  n't  got  back  on  time." 

"  I  would,"  said  the  captain,  as  before. 

Hicks  threw  back  his  head,  and  laughed.  Prob- 
ably no  human  being  had  ever  before  made  so  free 
with  Captain  Jenness  at  his  own  table ;  but  the  cap- 
tain must  have  felt  that  this  contumacy  was  part  of 
the  general  risk  which  he  had  taken  in  taking  Hicks, 
ind  he  contented  himself  with  maintaining  a  silence 
11 


178       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

5hat  would  have  appalled  a  less  audacious  spirit, 
Hicks's  gayety,  however,  was  not  to  be  quelled  in 
that  way. 

"  Gibraltar  would  n't  be  a  bad  place  to  put  up  at 
for  a  while,"  he  said.  "  Lots  of  good  fellows  among 
the  officers,  they  say,  and  fun  going  all  the  while 
First-class  gunning  in  the  Cork  Woods  at  St.  Roque. 
If  it  had  n't  been  for  the  res  angusta  domi,  —  you 
know  what  I  mean,  captain,  —  I  should  have  let  you 
get  along  with  your  old  dug-out,  as  the  gentleman 
in  the  water  said  to  Noah."  His  hilarity  had  some- 
thing alarmingly  knowing  in  it ;  there  was  a  wild 
ness  in  the  pleasure  with  which  he  bearded  the  cap- 
tain, like  that  of  a  man  in  his  first  cups ;  yet  he  had 
not  been  drinking.  He  played  round  the  captain's 
knowledge  of  the  sanative  destitution  in  which  he 
was  making  the  voyage  with  mocking  recurrence ; 
but  he  took  himself  off  to  bed  early,  and  the  captain 
oame  through  his  trials  with  unimpaired  temper. 
Dunham  disappeared  not  long  afterwards ;  and  Stam- 
ford's vague  hope  that  Lydia  might  be  going  on 
deck  to  watch  the  lights  of  the  town  die  out  behind 
the  ship  as  they  sailed  away  was  disappointed. 
The  second  mate  made  a  point  of  lounging  near 
him  where  he  sat  alone  in  their  wonted  place. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  he  did  come  back  sober." 

"  Yes,"  said  Staniford. 

"  Next  to  not  comin'  back  at  all,"  the  mate  con- 
tinued, "  I  suppose  it  was  the  best  thing  he  could 
io."  He  lounged  away.  Neither  his  voice  nor  hu 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       179 

manner  had  that  quality  of  disappointment  which 
characterizes  those  who  have  mistakenly  prophesied 
evil.  Staniford  had  a  mind  to  call  him  back,  and 
ask  him  what  he  meant ;  but  he  refrained,  and  he 
went  to  bed  at  last  resolved  to  unburden  himself  of 
the  whole  Hicks  business  once  for  all.  He  felt  that 
he  had  had  quite  enough  of  it,  both  in  the  a  be  tract 
and  in  its  relation  to  Lydia. 


XVI 

HlOKS  did  not  join  the  others  at  breakfast 
They  talked  of  what  Lydia  had  seen  at  Gibral- 
tar, where  Staniford  had  been  on  a  former  voyage. 
Dunham  had  made  it  a  matter  of  conscience  to 
know  all  about  it  beforehand  from  his  guide-books, 
and  had  risen  early  that  morning  to  correct  his 
science  by  his  experience  in  a  long  entry  in  the 
diary  which  he  was  keeping  for  Miss  Hibbard. 
The  captain  had  the  true  sea-farer's  ignorance,  and 
was  amused  at  the  things  reported  by  his  passen- 
gers of  a  place  where  he  had  been  ashore  so  often ; 
Hicks's  absence  doubtless  relieved  him,  but  he  did 
not  comment  on  the  cabin-boy's  announcement  that 
he  was  still  asleep,  except  to  order  him  let  alone. 

They  were  seated  at  their  one  o'clock  dinner  be- 
fore the  recluse  made  any  sign.  Then  he  gave  note 
of  hi?  continued  existence  by  bumping  and  thump- 
ing sounds  within  his  state-room,  as  if  some  one 
were  dressing  there  in  a  heavy  sea. 

"  Mr.  Hicks  seems  to  be  taking  his  rough  weathe* 
retrospectively,"  said  Staniford,  with  rather  tremu- 
•ous  humor. 

The  door  was  flung  open,  and  Hicks  reeled  out, 
itaying  himself  by  the  door-knob.  Even  before  he 
Appeared,  a  reek  of  strong  waters  had  preceded 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  181 

aim.  He  must  have  been  drinking  all  night.  His 
face  was  flushed,  and  his  eyes  were  bloodshot.  He 
had  no  collar  on  ;  but  he  wore  a  cravat  and  other- 
mse  he  was  accurately  and  even  fastidiously  dressed, 
He  balanced  himself  by  the  door-knob,  and  meas- 
ured the  distance  he  had  to  make  before  reaching 
his  place  at  the  table,  smiling,  and  waving  a  del- 
icate handkerchief  which  he  held  in  his  hand: 
"  Spilt  c'logne,  tryin'  to  scent  my  hie  —  handker- 
chief. Makes  deuced  bad  smell  —  too  much  c'logne  ; 
smells  —  alcoholic.  Thorn's,  bear  a  hand,  's  good 
flow.  No?  All  right,  go  on  with  your  waitin'. 
B-io  —  business  b'fore  pleasure,  's  feller  says. 
Play  it  alone,  I  guess." 

The  boy  had  shrunk  back  in  dismay,  and  Hicks 
contrived  to  reach  his  place  by  one  of  those  precip- 
itate dashes  with  which  drunken  men  attain  a 
point,  when  the  luck  is  with  them.  He  looked 
smilingly  round  the  circle  of  faces.  Staniford  and 
the  captain  exchanged  threatening  looks  of  intel- 
ligence, while  Mr.  Watterson  and  Dunham  subor- 
dinately  waited  their  motion.  But  the  advantage, 
as  in  such  cases,  was  on  the  side  of  Hicks.  He 
knew  it,  with  a  drunkard's  subtlety,  and  was  at  his 


"  No  app'tite,  friends  ;  but  thought  I  'd  come 
out,  keep  you  from  feeling  lonesome."  He  laughed 
and  hiccuped,  and  smiled  upon  them  all.  "  Well, 
eap'n,"  he  continued,  "  'covered  from  'tigues  day, 
uterday  ?  You  look  blooming  's  usual.  Thorn's, 


182       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

pass  the  —  pass  the  —  victuals  lively,  my  son,  and 
fetch  along  coffee  soon.  Some  the  friends  up  late, 
and  want  their  coffee.  Nothing  like  coffee,  carry 
off  'fee's."  He  winked  to  the  men,  all  round ;  and 
then  added,  to  Lydia  :  "  Sorry  see  you  in  this  state 
—  I  mean,  sorry  see  me —  Can't  make  it  that 
way  either ;  up  stump  on  both  routes.  What  I 
mean  is,  sorry  had  n't  coffee  first.  But  you  're  all 
right — all  right !  Like  see  anybody  offer  you  dis- 
respec',  'n  I  'm  around.  Tha  's  all." 

Till  he  addressed  her,  Lydia  had  remained  mo- 
tionless, first  with  bewilderment,  and  then  with 
open  abhorrence.  She  could  hardly  have  seen  in 
South  Bradfield  a  man  who  had  been  drinking. 
Even  in  haying,  or  other  sharpest  stress  of  farm- 
work,  our  farmer  and  his  men  stay  themselves  with 
nothing  stronger  than  molasses- water,  or,  in  extreme 
cases,  cider  with  a  little  corn  soaked  in  it ;  and  the 
Mill  Village,  where  she  had  taught  school,  was 
under  the  iron  rule  of  a  local  vote  for  prohibition. 
She  stared  in  stupefaction  at  Hicks's  heated,  fool- 
ish face ;  she  started  at  his  wild  movements,  and 
listened  with  dawning  intelligence  to  his  hiccup- 
broken  speech,  with  its  thickened  sibilants  and  its 
wandering  emphasis.  When  he  turned  to  her,  and 
accompanied  his  words  with  a  reassuring  gesture, 
she  recoiled,  and  as  ii  breaking  an  ugly  fascination 
ihe  gave  a  low,  shuddering  cry,  and  looked  at  Stan- 
iford. 

"  Thomas,'  he  said,  "  Miss  Blood  was  going  to 
Sake  *ier  dessert  on  deck  to-day.  Dunham  ?  " 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       183 

Dunham  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  led  her  out  of 
the  cabin. 

The  movement  met  Hicks's  approval.  "  Tha  'a 
right;  'sert  on  deck,  'joy  landscape  and  pudding  to- 
gether, —  Rhine  steamer  style.  All  right.  Be  up 
there  m'self  soon  's  I  get  my  coffee."  He  winked 
again  with  drunken  sharpness.  "  I  know  wha  'a 
what.  Be  up  there  m'self,  'n  a  minute." 

"  If  you  offer  to  go  up,"  said  Staniford,  in  a  low 
voice,  as  soon  as  Lydia  was  out  of  the  way,  "  I  '11 
knock  you  down  !  " 

"  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Watterson,  venturing,  per- 
haps for  the  first  time  in  his  whole  maritime  his- 
tory, upon  a  suggestion  to  his  superior  officer, 
"  shall  I  clap  him  in  irons  ?  " 

"  Clap  him  in  irons ! "  roared  Captain  Jenness. 
"  Clap  him  in  bed  !  Look  here,  you  !  "  He  turned 
to  Hicks,  but  the  latter,  who  had  been  bristling 
at  Stamford's  threat,  now  relaxed  in  a'  crowing 
laugh: —  » 

"  Tha  's  right,  captain.  Irons  no  go,  'cept  in  case 
mutiny ;  bed  perfectly  legal  't  all  times.  Bed  is 
good.  But  trouble  is  t'  enforce  it." 

"  Where  's  your  bottle  ?  "  demanded  the  captain, 
rising  from  the  seat  in  which  a  paralysis  of  fury 
r.ad  kept  him  hitherto.  "  I  want  your  bottle." 

"  Oh,  bottle  's  all  right !  Bottle  's  under  pillow. 
Empty,  —  empty  's  Jonah's  gourd ;  'nother  sea-far- 
ing party,  —  Jonah.  S'cure  the  shadow  ere  tht? 
iubstance  fade.  Drunk  all  the  brandy,  old  boy 


184  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Bottle 's  a  canteen  ;  Vantage  of  military  port  to 
houseless  stranger.  Brought  the  brandy  on  board 
under  my  coat ;  nobody  noticed,  —  so  glad  get  me 
back.  Prodigal  son's  return,  —  fatted  calf  under 
his  coat." 

The  reprobate  ended  his  boastful  confession  with 
another  burst  of  hiccuping,  and  Stamford  helplessly 
laughed. 

"  Do  me  proud,"  said  Hicks.  "  Proud,  I  'sure 
you.  Gentleman,  every  time,  Stanny.  Know  good 
thing  when  you  see  it  —  hear  it,  I  mean." 

"Look  here,  Hicks,"  said  Stamford,  choosing  to 
make  friends  with  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness, 
if  any  good  end  might  be  gained  by  it.  "  You  know 
you  're  drank,  and  you  're  not  fit  to  be  about.  Go 
back  to  bed,  that 's  a  good  fellow ;  and  come  out 
again,  when  you  're  all  right.  You  don't  want  to 
do  anything  you  '11  be  sorry  for." 

"  No,  no  !  No,  you  don't,  Stanny.  Coffee  '11 
make  me  all  right.  Coffee  always  does.  Coffee  — 
Heaven's  lash  besh  gift  to  man.  'Scovered  subse- 
subs'quently  to  grape.  See  ?  Comes  after  claret 
in  course  of  nature.  Captain  doesn't  understand 
the  'lusion.  All  right,  captain.  Little  learning 
dangerous  thing."  He  turned  sharply  on  Mr.  Wat- 
terson,  who  had  remained  inertly  in  his  place, 
u  Put  me  in  irons,  heh !  You  put  me  in  irons,  you 
old  Triton.  Put  me  in  irons,  will  you  ?  "  His  ami- 
*ble  mood  was  passing  ;  before  one  could  say  so,  it 
was  past.  He  was  meditating  means  of  active  of 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  186 

fense.  He  gathered  up  the  carving-knife  and  fork, 
and  held  them  close  under  Mr.  Watterson's  nosa 
"  Smell  that !  "  he  said,  and  frowned  as  darkly  as 
a  man  of  so  little  eyebrow  could. 

At  this  senseless  defiance  Staniford,  in  spite  of 
himself,  broke  into  another  laugh,  and  even  Captain 
Jenness  grinned.  Mr.  Watterson  sat  with  his  head 
drawn  as  far  back  as  possible,  and  with  his  nose 
wrinkled  at  the  affront  offered  it.  "  Captain,"  he 
screamed,  appealing  even  in  this  extremity  to  his 
superior,  "  shall  I  fetch  him  one  f  " 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Staniford,  springing  from  his 
chair ;  "don't  hit  him !  He  is  n't  responsible.  Let  'a 
get  him  into  his  room." 

"  Fetch  ine  one,  heh  ?  "  said  Hicks,  rising,  with 
dignity,  and  beginning  to  turn  up  his  cuffs.  "  One  ! 
It  '11  take  more  than  one,  fetch  me.  Stan'  up,  'f 
you  're  man  enough."  He  was  squaring  at  Mr. 
Watterson,  when  he  detected  signs  of  strategic  ap- 
proach in  Staniford  and  Captain  Jenness.  He  gave 
a  wild  laugh,  and  shrank  into  a  corner.  "  No  I  No, 
you  don't,  boys,"  he  said. 

They  continued  their  advance,  one  on  either  side, 
and  reinforced  by  Mr.  Watterson  hemmed  him  in. 
The  drunken  man  has  the  advantage  of  his  sober 
brother  in  never  seeming  to  be  on  the  alert.  Hicka 
apparently  entered  into  the  humor  of  the  affair. 
"  Sur-hic-surrender  1  "  he  said,  with  a  smile  in  his 
heavy  eyes.  He  darted  under  the  extended  arms  of 
oaptain  Jenness,  who  was  leading  the  centre  of  the 


186       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

advance,  and  before  either  wing  could  touch  him  he 
was  up  the  gangway  and  on  the  deck. 

Captain  Jenness  indulged  one  of  those  expres- 
sions, very  rare  with  him,  which  are  supposed  to  be 
forgiven  to  good  men  in  moments  of  extreme  per- 
plexity, and  Mr.  Watterson  profited  by  the  prec- 
edent to  unburden  his  heart  in  a  paraphrase  of 
fche  captain's  language.  Stamford's  laugh  had  as 
much  cursing  in  it  as  their  profanity. 

He  mechanically  followed  Hicks  to  the  deck, 
prepared  to  renew  the  attempt  for  his  capture  there. 
But  Hicks  had  not  stopped  near  Dunham  and  Lydia. 
He  had  gone  forward  on  the  other  side  of  the  ship, 
and  was  leaning  quietly  on  the  rail,  and  looking 
into  the  sea.  Staniford  paused  irresolute  for  a 
moment,  and  then  sat  down  beside  Lydia,  and  they 
all  tried  to  feign  that  nothing  unpleasant  had  hap- 
pened, or  was  still  impending.  But  their  talk  had 
the  wandering  inconclusiveness  which  was  inevita- 
ble, and  the  eyes  of  each  from  time  to  time  fur- 
tively turned  toward  Hicks. 

For  half  an  hour  he  hardly  changed  his  position. 
At  the  end  of  that  time,  they  found  him  looking 
intently  at  them ;  and  presently  he  began  to  work 
slowly  back  to  the  waist  of  the  ship,  but  kept  to 
his  own  side.  He  was  met  on  the  way  by  the  see- 
ond  mate,  when  nearly  opposite  where  they  sat. 

'*  Ain't  you  pretty  comfortable  where  you  are  ?  ' 
they  heard  the  mate  asking.  "  Guess  I  would  n't 
go  aft  any  further  just  yet.' 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       187 

"  You  're  all  right,  Mason,"  Hicks  answered. 
*  Going  below  —  down  cellar,  's  feller  says ;  go  to 
bed/' 

"  Well,  that  's  a  pious  idea,"  said  the  mate. 
M  You  could  n't  do  better  than  that.  1 11  lend  you 
a  hand." 

"  Don't  care  'f  I  do,"  responded  Hicks,  taking 
the  mate's  proffered  arm.  But  he  really  seemed  to 
need  it  very  little ;  he  walked  perfectly  well,  and 
he  did  not  look  across  at  the  others  again. 

At  the  head  of  the  gangway  he  encountered  Cap- 
tain Jenness  and  Mr.  Watterson,  who  had  completed 
the  perquisition  they  had  remained  to  make  in  his 
state-room.  Mr.  Watterson  came  up  empty-handed ; 
but  the  captain  bore  the  canteen  in  which  the  com- 
mon enemy  had  been  so  artfully  conveyed  on  board. 
He  walked,  darkly  scowling,  to  the  rail,  and  flung 
the  canteen  into  the  sea.  Hicks,  who  had  saluted 
his  appearance  with  a  glare  as  savage  as  his  own, 
yielded  to  his  whimsical  sense  of  the  futility  of  this 
^engeance.  He  gave  his  fleering,  drunken  laugh 
"  Good  old  boy,  Captain  Jenness.  Means  well  — — 
means  well.  But  lacks  —  lacks  —  forecast.  Pounds 
ti  cure,  but  no  prevention.  Not  much  on  bite,  but 
death  on  bark.  Heh  ?  "  He  waggled  his  hand 
offensively  at  the  captain,  and  disappeared,  loosely 
floundering  down  the  cabin  stairs,  holding  hard  by 
the  hand-rail,  and  fumbling  round  with  his  foot  for 
the  steps  before  he  put  it  down. 

uAs  soon  as  he's  in  his  room,  Mr.  Watterson 


188       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

you  lock  him  in."  The  captain  handed  his  officer 
a  key,  and  walked  away  forward,  with  a  hang-dog 
look  on  his  kindly  face,  which  he  kept  averted  from 
his  passengers. 

The  sound  of  Hicks's  descent  had  hardly  ceased 
when  clapping  and  knocking  noises  were  heard 
again,  and  the  face  of  the  troublesome  little  wretch 
reappeared.  He  waved  Mr.  Watterson  aside  with 
his  left  hand,  and  in  default  of  specific  orders  the 
latter  allowed  him  to  mount  to  the  deck  again, 
flicks  stayed  himself  a  moment,  and  lurched  to 
where  Staniford  and  Dunham  sat  with  Lydia. 

"  What  I  wish  say  Miss  Blood  is,"  he  began,  — 
"  what  I  wish  say  is,  peculiar  circumstances  make 
no  difference  with  man  if  man  's  gentleman.  What 
I  say  is,  everybody  'spec's  —  What  I  say  is,  cir- 
cumstances don't  alter  cases  ;  lady  's  a  lady  — 
What  I  want  do  is  beg  you  fellows'  pardon  —  beg 
her  pardon  —  if  anything  I  said  that  firs'  morn- 
ing "  — 

"  Go  away  ! "  cried  Staniford,  beginning  to  whiten 
round  the  nostrils.  "  Hold  your  tongue  !  " 

Hicks  fell  back  a  pace,  and  looked  at  him  with 
fhe  odd  effect  of  now  seeing  him  for  the  first  time. 
"  What  you  want  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What  you  mean  ? 
Slingin'  criticism  ever  since  you  came  on  this  ship  ! 
What  you  mean  by  it  ?  Heh  ?  What  you  mean  ?  " 

Staniford  rose,  and  Lydia  gave  a  start.  He  cast 
an  angry  look  at  her.  "  Do  you  think  I  'd  hurt 
bim  ?  "  he  demanded. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.       189 

Hicks  went  on  :  "  Sorry,  very  sorry,  'larm  a  lady, 
—  specially  lady  we  all  respec'.  But  this  particular 
affair.  Touch — touches  my  honor.  Tou  said,"  he 
continued,  "  'f  I  came  on  deck,  you  'd  knock  me  down. 
Why  don't  you  do  it?  Wha  's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  Sling  criticism  ever  since  you  been  on  ship, 
and  'fraid  do  it !  'Fraid,  you  hear  ?  'F-ic —  'fraid, 
I  say."  Stamford  slowly  walked  away  forward,  and 
Hicks  followed  him,  threatening  him  with  word  and 
gesture.  Now  and  then  Stamford  thrust  him  aside, 
and  addressed  him  some  expostulation,  and  Hioka 
laughed  and  submitted.  Then,  after  a  silent  ex- 
cursion to  the  other  side  of  the  ship,  he  would  re- 
turn and  renew  his  one-sided  quarrel.  Staniford 
seemed  to  forbid  the  interference  of  the  crew,  and 
alternately  soothed  and  baffled  his  tedious  adver- 
sary, who  could  still  be  heard  accusing  him  of  sling- 
ing criticism,  and  challenging  him  to  combat.  He 
leaned  with  his  back  to  the  rail,  and  now  looked 
quietly  into  Hicks's  crazy  face,  when  the  latter 
paused  in  front  of  him,  and  now  looked  down  with 
a  worried,  wearied  air.  At  last  he  crossed  to  the 
other  side,  and  began  to  come  aft  again. 

"  Mr.  Dunham  I  "  cried  Lydia,  starting  up.  "  1 
know  what  Mr.  Staniford  wants  to  do.  He  wants 
to  keep  him  away  from  me.  Let  me  go  down  to 
the  cabin.  I  can't  walk  ;  please  help  me  1 "  Her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  the  hand  trembled  that 
•he  laid  on  Dunham's  arm,  but  she  controlled  hei 

rob* 


190       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

He  softly  repressed  her,  while  he  intently  watched 
Stamford.  "  No,  no  I  " 

"  But  he  can't  bear  it  much  longer,"  she  pleaded. 
"  And  if  he  should  "  — 

"  Stamford  would  never  strike  him,"  said  Dun- 
ham, calmly.  "  Don't  be  afraid.  Look  1  He  '• 
coming  back  with  him  ;  he  's  trying  to  get  him  be- 
low ;  they  '11  shut  him  up  there.  That 's  the  only 
chance.  Sit  down,  please."  She  dropped  into  her 
seat,  hid  her  eyes  for  an  instant,  and  then  fixed 
them  again  on  the  two  young  men. 

Hicks  had  got  between  Staniford  and  the  rail. 
He  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and,  pulling  him  round, 
suddenly  struck  at  him.  It  was  too  much  for  his 
wavering  balance  :  his  feet  shot  from  under  him, 
and  he  went  backwards  in  a  crooked  whirl  and  tum- 
ble, over  the  vessel's  side. 

Staniford  uttered  a  cry  of  disgust  and  rage. 
"  Oh,  you  little  brute  !  "  he  shouted,  and  with  what 
seemed  a  single  gesture  he  flung  off  his  coat  and  the 
low  shoes  he  wore,  and  leaped  the  railing  after  him. 

The  cry  of  "  Man  overboard  !  "  rang  round  the 
ship,  and  Captain  Jenness's  order,  "  Down  with 
your  helm!  Lower  a  boat,  Mr.  Mason!"  came, 
quick  as  it  was,  after  the  second  mate  had  prepared 
to  let  go ;  and  he  and  two  of  the  men  were  in  the 
boat,  and  she  was  sliding  from  her  davits,  while  the 
Aroostook  was  coming  up  to  the  light  wind  and 
»osing  headway. 

When  the   boat   touched  the  water,  two  heads 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       191 

had  appeared  above  the  surface  terribly  far  away. 
"  Hold  on,  for  God's  sake  I  We  '11  be  there  in  a 
second." 

"  All  right !  "  Stamford's  voice  called  back.  "  Be 
quick."  The  heads  rose  and  sank  with  the  undula- 
tion of  the  water.  The  swift  boat  appeared  to 
crawl. 

By  the  time  it  reached  the  place  where  they  had 
been  seen,  the  heads  disappeared,  and  the  men  in 
the  boat  seemed  to  be  rowing  blindly  about.  The 
mate  stood  upright.  Suddenly  he  dropped  and 
clutched  at  something  over  the  boat's  side.  The 
people  on  the  ship  could  see  three  hands  on  her  gun- 
wale; a  figure  was  pulled  up  into  the  boat,  and 
proved  to  be  Hicks  ;  then  Staniford,  seizing  the 
gunwale  with  both  hands,  swung  himself  in. 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  ship,  and  Stamford 
waved  his  hand.  Lydia  waited  where  she  hung 
upon  the  rail,  clutching  it  hard  with  her  hands,  till 
the  boat  was  along-side.  Then  from  white  she 
turned  fire-red,  and  ran  below  and  locked  herself  *u 
ker  room. 


XVII 

DuXHAM  followed  Stamford  to  their  room,  and 
helped  him  off  with  his  wet  clothes.  He  tried 
bo  say  something  ideally  fit  in  recognition  of  his 
heroic  act,  and  he  articulated  some  bald  common- 
places of  praise,  and  shook  Staniford's  clammy 
hand.  "  Yes,"  said  the  latter,  submitting  ;  "  but 
the  difficulty  about  a  thing  of  this  sort  is  that  you 
don't  know  whether  you  have  n't  been  an  ass.  It 
has  been  pawed  over  so  much  by  the  romancers  that 
you  don't  feel  like  a  hero  in  real  life,  but  a  hero  of 
fiction.  I  've  a  notion  that  Hicks  and  I  looked 
rather  ridiculous  going  over  the  ship's  side  ;  I  know 
we  did,  coming  back.  No  man  can  reveal  his  great- 
ness of  soul  in  wet  clothes.  Did  Miss  Blood 
\augh  ?  " 

"  Staniford ! "  said  Dunham,  in  an  accent  of  re- 
proach. "  You  do  her  great  injustice.  She  felt 
what  you  had  done  in  the  way  you  would  wish,  — 
if  you  cared." 

"  What  did  she  say?  "  asked  Staniford,  quickly. 

"  Nothing.     But "  — 

"  That 's  an  easy  way  of  expressing  one's  admi- 
ration of  heroic  behavior.  I  hope  she  '11  stick  to 
that  line.  I  hope  she  won't  feel  it  at  all  necessary 
to  say  anything  in  recognition  of  my  prowess ;  it 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.       193 

would  be  extremely  embarrassing.  I  Ve  got  Hicka 
back  again,  but  I  could  n't  stand  any  gratitude  for 
it.  Not  that  I  'm  ashamed  of  the  performance. 
Perhaps  if  it  had  been  anybody  but  Hicks,  I  ahould 
have  waited  for  them  to  lower  a  boat.  But  Hicka 
had  peculiar  claims.  You  could  n't  let  a  maii 
you  disliked  so  much  welter  round  a  great  while. 
Where  is  the  poor  old  fellow  ?  Is  he  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind  again  ?  "  ' 

"  He  seemed  to  be  sober  enough,"  said  Dunham, 
"  when  he  came  on  board  ;  but  I  don't  think  he  's 
out  yet." 

"  We  must  let  Thomas  in  to  gather  up  this  bath- 
ing-suit," observed  Staniford.  "  What  a  Newport- 
ish  flavor  it  gives  the  place  !  "  He  was  excited,  and 
in  great  gayety  of  spirits. 

He  and  Dunham  went  out  into  the  cabin,  where 
they  found  Captain  Jenness  pacing  to  and  fro. 
"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  taking  Stamford's  hand,  and 
crossing  his  right  with  his  left,  so  as  to  include  Dun- 
ham in  his  congratulations,  "  you  ought  to  haye 
been  a  sailor !  "  Then  he  added,  as  if  the  unquali- 
fied praise  might  seem  fulsome,  "  But  if  you  'd  been 
a  sailor,  you  would  n't  have  tried  a  thing  like  that. 
Vou  'd  have  had  more  sense.  The  chances  were  ten 
to  one  against  you." 

Staniford  laughed.  "  Was  it  so  bad  as  that  ?  I 
ihall  begin  to  respect  myself." 

The  captain  did  not  answer,  but  his  iron  grip 

dosed  hard  upon  Stamford's  hand,  and  he  frowned 
it 


194       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

in  keen  inspection  of  Hicks,  who  at  that  moment 
came  out  of  his  state-room,  looking  pale  and  quite 
sobered.  Captain  Jenness  surveyed  him  from  head 
to  foot,  and  then  from  foot  to  head,  and  pausing  at 
fche  level  of  his  eyes  he  said,  still  holding  Stamford 
by  the  hand:  "  The  trouble  with  a  man  aboard 
ihip  is  that  he  can't  turn  a  blackguard  out-of-doors 
just  when  he  likes.  The  Aroostook  puts  in  at  Mes- 
sina. You  '11  be  treated  well  till  we  get  there,  and 
then  if  I  find  you  on  my  vessel  five  minutes  after 
she  comes  to  anchor,  I  '11  heave  you  overboard,  and 
I  '11  take  care  that  nobody  jumps  after  you.  Do 
you  hear  ?  And  you  won't  find  me  doing  any  such 
fool  kindness  as  I  did  when  I  took  you  on  board, 
goon  again." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Captain  Jenness,"  began  Staniford. 

"  He  's  all  right,"  interrupted  Hicks.  "  I  'm  a 
olackguard ;  I  know  it ;  and  I  don't  think  I  was 
worth  fishing  up.  But  you  've  done  it,  and  I  must 
n't  go  back  on  you,  I  suppose."  He  lifted  his  poor, 
weak,  bad  little  face,  and  looked  Staniford  in  the 
lyes  with  a  pathos  that  belied  the  slang  of  his 
speech.  The  latter  released  his  hand  from  Captain 
Jenness  and  gave  it  to  Hicks,  who  wrung  it,  as  he 
kept  looking  him  in  the  eyes,  while  his  lips  twitched 
pitifully,  like  a  child's.  The  captain  gave  a  quick 
inort  either  of  disgust  or  of  sympathy,  and  turned 
Abruptly  about  and  bundled  himself  up  out  of  the 
tabin. 

"  I  say  I "  exclaimed  Staniford,  "  a  cup  of  coffet 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  195 

irould  n't  be  bad,  would  it  ?  Let 's  have  some  cof- 
fee, Thomas,  about  as  quick  as  the  cook  can  make 
it,"  he  added,  as  the  boy  came  out  from  his  state- 
room with  a  lump  of  wet  clothes  in  his  hands. 
"  You  wanted  some  coffee  a  little  while  ago,"  he 
Baid  to  Hicks,  who  hung  his  head  at  the  joke. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  Staniford  was  the  hero  of 
the  ship.  The  men  looked  at  him  from  a  distance, 
and  talked  of  him  together.  Mr.  Watterson  hung 
about  whenever  Captain  Jenness  drew  near  him,  as 
if  in  the  hope  of  overhearing  some  acceptable  ex- 
pression in  which  he  could  second  his  superior  offi- 
cer. Failing  this,  and  being  driven  to  despair, 
"  Find  the  water  pretty  cold,  sir  ?  "  he  asked  at 
last ;  and  after  that  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  dis- 
charged his  duty  as  well  as  might  be  under  the  ex- 
traordinary circumstances. 

The  second  mate,  during  the  course  of  the  after- 
noon, contrived  to  pass  near  Staniford.  "  Why, 
there  wa'  n't  no  need  of  your  doing  it,"  he  said,  in 
A  bated  tone.  "  I  could  ha'  had  him  out  with  the 
boat,  soon  enough" 

Staniford  treasured  up  these  meagre  expressions 
>f  the  general  approbation,  and  would  not  have  had 
them  different.  From  this  time,  within  the  nar 
vow  bounds  that  brought  them  all  necessarily  to- 
gether in  some  sort,  Hicks  abolished  himself  as 
nearly  as  possible.  He  chose  often  to  join  the  sec- 
ond mate  at  meals,  which  Mr.  Mason,  in  accordance 
with  the  discipline  of  the  ship,  took  apart  both 


196       THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

from  the  crew  and  his  superior  officers.  Mason 
treated  the  voluntary  outcast  with  a  sort  of  sarcas- 
tic compassion,  as  a  man  whose  fallen  state  was  not 
without  its  points  as  a  joke  to  the  indifferent  ob- 
server, and  yet  might  appeal  to  the  pity  of  one  who 
knew  such  cases  through  the  misery  they  inflicted. 
Staniford  heard  him  telling  Hicks  about  his  brother- 
in-law,  and  dwelling  upon  the  peculiar  relief  which 
the  appearance  of  his  name  in  the  mortality  list 
gave  all  concerned  in  him.  Hicks  listened  in  apa- 
thetic patience  and  acquiescence ;  but  Staniford 
thought  that  he  enjoyed,  as  much  as  he  could  enjoy 
anything,  the  second  officer's  frankness.  For  his 
own  part,  he  found  that  having  made  bold  to  keep 
this  man  in  the  world  he  had  assumed  a  curious  re- 
sponsibility towards  him.  It  became  his  business  to 
show  him  that  he  was  not  shunned  by  his  fellow- 
creatures,  to  hearten  and  cheer  him  up.  It  was 
heavy  work.  Hicks  with  his  joke  was  sometimes 
odious  company,  but  he  was  also  sometimes  amus- 
ing ;  without  it,  he  was  of  a  terribly  dull  conver- 
sation. He  accepted  Staniford's  friendliness  too 
meekly  for  good  comradery ;  he  let  it  add,  appar- 
ently, to  his  burden  of  gratitude,  rather  than  lessen 
it.  Staniford  smoked  with  him,  and  told  him  sto- 
ries ;  he  walked  up  and  down  with  him,  and  made 
%  point  of  parading  their  good  understanding,  but 
his  spirits  seemed  to  sink  the  lower.  "  Deuce  take 
him  1 "  mused  his  benefactor ;  "  he  's  in  love  with 
Mr ! "  But  he  now  had  the  satisfaction,  such  as  it 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       197 

was,  of  seeing  that  if  lie  was  in  love  he  was  quite 
without  hope.  Lydia  had  never  relented  in  hei 
Abhorrence  of  Hicks  since  the  day  of  his  disgrace. 
There  seemed  no  scorn  in  her  condemnation,  but 
neither  was  there  any  mercy.  In  her  simple  life 
§he  had  kept  unsophisticated  the  severe  morality 
of  a  child,  and  it  was  this  that  judged  him,  that 
found  him  unpardonable  and  outlawed  him.  He 
had  never  ventured  to  speak  to  her  since  that  day, 
and  Staniford  never  saw  her  look  at  him  except 
when  Hicks  was  not  looking,  and  then  with  a  re^ 
pulsion  which  was  very  curious.  Stamford  could 
have  pitied  him,  and  might  have  interceded  so  far 
as  to  set  him  nearer  right  in  her  eyes ;  but  he 
felt  that  she  avoided  him,  too ;  there  were  no  more 
walks  on  the  deck,  no  more  readings  in  the  cabin  ; 
the  checker-board,  which  professed  to  be  the  His- 
tory of  England,  In  2  Vols.,  remained  a  closed 
book.  The  good  companionship  of  a  former  time, 
in  which  they  had  so  often  seemed  like  brothers 
and  sister,  was  gone.  "  Hicks  has  smashed  our 
Happy  Family,"  Staniford  said  to  Dunham,  with 
little  pleasure  in  his  joke.  "  Upon  my  word,  I 
think  I  had  better  have  left  him  in  the  water." 
Lydia  kept  a  great  deal  in  her  own  room ;  some- 
times when  Staniford  came  down  into  the  cabin  he 
Pound  her  there,  talking  with  Thomas  of  little 
things  that  amuse  children ;  sometimes  when  he 
went  on  deck  in  the  evening  she  would  be  there  in 
fcer  accustomed  seat,  and  the  second  mate,  with 


198       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

face  and  figure  half  averted,  and  staying  himseli 
by  one  hand  on  the  shrouds,  would  be  telling  her 
Bomething  to  which  she  listened  with  lifted  chin 
and  attentive  eyes.  The  mate  would  go  away  when 
Staniford  appeared,  but  that  did  not  help  matters, 
for  then  Lydia  went  too.  At  table  she  said  very 
little  ;  she  had  the  effect  of  placing  herself  more 
and  more  under  the  protection  of  the  captain.  The 
golden  age,  when  they  had  all  laughed  and  jested 
BO  freely  and  fearlessly  together,  under  her  pretty 
sovereignty,  was  past,  and  they  seemed  far  dis- 
persed in  a  common  exile.  Staniford  imagined  she 
grew  pale  and  thin  ;  he  asked  Dunham  if  he  did 
not  see  it,  but  Dunham  had  not  observed.  "  I  think 
matters  have  taken  a  very  desirable  shape,  socially," 
he  said.  "  Miss  Blood  will  reach  her  friends  as 
fancy-free  as  she  left  home." 

"  Yes,"  Staniford  assented  vaguely;  "that's  the 
great  object." 

After  a  while  Dunham  asked,  "  She  's  never  said 
anything  to  you  about  your  rescuing  Hicks  ?  " 

"  Rescuing  ?  What  rescuing  ?  They  'd  have  had 
him  out  in  another  minute,  any  way,"  said  Stani- 
ford, fretfully.  Then  he  brooded  angrily  upon  the 
subject :  "  But  I  can  tell  you  what :  considering  all 
the  circumstances,  she  might  very  well  have  said 
tomething.  It  looks  obtuse,  or  it  looks  hard.  She 
must  have  known  that  it  all  came  about  through 
lay  trying  to  keep  him  away  from  her." 

44  Oh,  yes  ;  she  knew  that,"  said  Dunham  ;  "  she 
ipoke  of  it  at  the  time.  But  I  thought "  — 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       199 

"  Oh,  she  did  I  Then  I  think  that  it  would  be 
eery  little  if  she  recognized  the  mere  fact  that 
something  had  happened." 

"  Why,  you  said  you  hoped  she  would  n't.  You 
said  it  would  be  embarrassing.  You  're  hard  to 
please,  Staniford." 

"I  shouldn't  choose  to  have  her  speak  for  my 
pleasure,"  Staniford  returned.  "  But  it  argues  a 
dullness  and  coldness  in  her  "  — 

"  I  don't  believe  she  's  dull ;  I  don't  believe  she's 
cold,"  said  Dunham,  warmly. 

"  What  do  you  believe  she  is  ?  ' 

"  Afraid." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Staniford. 

The  eve  of  their  arrival  at  Messina,  he  discharged 
one  more  duty  by  telling  Hicks  that  he  had  better 
come  on  to  Trieste  with  them.  "  Captain  Jenness 
asked  me  to  speak  to  you  about  it,"  he  said.  "  He 
feels  a  little  awkward,  and  thought  I  could  open 
the  matter  better." 

k<  The  captain  's  all  right,"  answered  Hicks,  with 
unruffled  humility,  "  but  I  'd  rather  stop  at  Mes- 
nina.  I  'm  going  to  get  home  as  soon  as  I  can,  — 
strike  a  bee-line." 

"  Look  here  I "  said  Staniford,  laying  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  "  How  are  you  going  to  manage 
for  money  ?  " 

"  Monte  di  Pieta,"  replied  Hicks.  "  I  've  been 
there  before.  Used  to  have  most  of  my  things  ID 
Ae  care  of  the  state  when  I  was  studying  medi 


200       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

eine  in  Paris.  I  've  got  a  lot  of  rings  and  trinket* 
that  '11  carry  me  through,  with  what  'B  left  of  my 
watch." 

u  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Sure." 

"  Because  you  can  draw  on  me,  if  you  're  going  to 
be  short." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Hicks.  "  There  's  something  I 
should  like  to  ask  you,"  he  added,  after  a  moment. 
M  I  see  as  well  as  you  do  that  Miss  Blood  is  n't  the 
same  as  she  was  before.  I  want  to  know  —  I  can't 
always  be  sure  afterwards  —  whether  I  did  or  said 
anything  out  of  the  way  in  her  presence." 

"  You  were  drunk,"  said  Staniford,  frankly,  "  but 
beyond  that  you  were  irreproachable,  as  regarded 
Miss  Blood.  You  were  even  exemplary." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Hicks,  with  a  joyless  laugh. 
"  Sometimes  it  takes  that  turn.  I  don't  think  I 
could  stand  it  if  I  had  shown  her  any  disrespect. 
She  's  a  lady,  —  a  perfect  lady  ;  she  's  the  best  girl 
I  ever  saw." 

"  Hicks,"  said  Staniford,  presently,  "  I  have  n't 
bored  you  in  regard  to  that  little  foible  of  yours. 
Are  n't  you  going  to  try  to  do  something  about 
it?" 

"  I  'm  going  home  to  get  them  to  shut  me  up 
lome  where,"  answered  Hicks.  "But  I  doubt  if  any- 
thing can  be  done.  I  've  studied  the  thing  ;  I  am 
t  doctor,  —  or  I  would  be  if  I  were  not  a  drunk- 
wrd,  —  and  I  've  diagnosed  the  case  pretty  thor 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       201 

Highly.  For  three  months  or  four  months,  now,  I 
lhall  be  all  right.  After  that  I  shall  go  to  the  bad 
for  a  few  weeks ;  and  1 11  have  to  scramble  back  the 
best  way  I  can.  Nobody  can  help  me.  That  was 
the  mistake  this  last  time.  I  should  n't  have 
wanted  anything  at  Gibraltar  if  I  could  have  had 
my  spree  out  at  Boston.  But  I  let  them  take  me 
before  it  was  over,  and  ship  me  off.  I  thought  I  *d 
try  it.  Well,  it  was  like  a  burning  fire  every 
minute,  all  the  way.  I  thought  I  should  die.  I 
tried  to  get  something  from  the  sailors;  I  tried  to 
steal  Gabriel's  cooking-wine.  When  I  got  that 
brandy  in  Gibraltar  I  was  wild.  Talk  about  hero- 
ism !  I  tell  you  it  was  superhuman,  keeping  that 
canteen  corked  till  night !  I  was  in  hopes  I  could 
get  through  it,  —  sleep  it  off,  —  and  nobody  be  any 
the  wiser.  But  it  would  n't  work.  O  Lord,  Lord, 
Lord!" 

Hicks  was  as  common  a  soul  as  could  well  be. 
His  conception  of  life  was  vulgar,  and  his  experi- 
ence of  it  was  probably  vulgar.  He  had  a  good 
mind  enough,  with  abundance  of  that  humorous 
brightness  which  may  hereafter  be  found  the  most 
national  quality  of  the  Americans ;  but  his  ideals 
were  pitiful,  and  the  language  of  his  heart  was  a 
drolling  slang.  Yet  his  doom  lifted  him  above  hia 
low  conditions,  and  made  him  tragic ;  his  despair 
gave  him  the  dignity  of  a  mysterious  expiation, 
and  set  him  apart  with  all  those  who  suffer  beyond 
human  help.  Without  deceiving  himself  as  to  th« 


202       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

quality  of  the  man,  Staniford  felt  awed  by  the  dark 
aess  of  his  fate. 

"  Can't  you  try  somehow  to  stand  up  against  it, 
and  fight  it  off  ?  Your  're  so  young  yet,  it 
ain't "- 

The  wretched  creature  burst  into  tears.  "  Oh, 
try,  —  try  !  You  don't  know  what  you  're  talking 
about.  Don't  you  suppose  I  've  had  reasons  for  try- 
ing ?  If  you  could  see  how  my  mother  looks  when 
I  come  out  of  one  of  my  drunks,  —  and  my  father, 
poor  old  man  !  It 's  no  use  ;  I  tell  you  it 's  no  use. 
I  shall  go  just  so  long,  and  then  I  shall  want  it, 
and  will  have  it,  unless  they  shut  me  up  for  life. 
My  God,  I  wish  I  was  dead  I  Well ! "  He  rose  from 
the  place  where  they  had  been  sitting  together,  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  Staniford.  "  I  'm  going  to  be 
off  in  the  morning  before  you  're  out,  and  I  '11  say 
good-by  now.  I  want  you  to  keep  this  chair,  and 
give  it  to  Miss  Blood,  for  me,  when  you  get  to 
Trieste." 

"  I  will,  Hicks,"  said  Staniford,  gently. 

"  I  want  her  to  know  that  I  was  ashamed  of  my- 
jelf.  I  think  she  '11  like  to  know  it." 

"  I  will  say  anything  to  her  that  you  wish,'*  re- 
p  led  Staniford. 

u  There  's  nothing  else.  If  ever  you  see  a  man 
frith  my  complaint  fall  overboard  again,  think 
-wice  before  you  jump  after  him." 

He  wrung   Stamford's   hand,  and  went   belo\f 
eaving  him  with  a  dull  remorse  that  he  should  evei 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       208 

tiave  hated  Hicks,  and  that  he  could  not  quite  like 
him  even  now. 

But  he  did  his  duty  by  him  to  the  last.  He  rose 
at  dawn,  and  was  on  deck  when  Hicks  went  over 
the  side  into  the  boat  which  was  to  row  him  to  the 
ateamer  for  Naples,  lying  at  anchor  not  far  off.  He 
presently  returned,  to  Staniford's  surprise,  and 
scrambled  up  to  the  deck  of  the  Aroostook.  "  The 
steamer  sails  to-night,"  he  said,  "  and  perhaps  I 
could  n't  raise  the  money  by  that  time.  I  wish 
you  'd  lend  me  ten  napoleons.  I  '11  send  'em  to  you 
from  London.  There  's  my  father's  address :  I  'm 
going  to  telegraph  to  him."  He  handed  Staniford 
a  card,  and  the  latter  went  below  for  the  coins. 
"  Thanks,"  said  Hicks,  when  he  reappeared  with 
them.  "  Send  'em  to  you  where  ?  " 

"  Care  Blumenthals',  Venice.  I  'm  going  to  be 
there  some  weeks." 

In  the  gray  morning  light  the  lurid  color  of  trag- 
edy had  faded  out  of  Hicks.  He  was  merely  a 
baddish-looking  young  fellow  whom  Staniford  had 
lent  ten  napoleons  that  he  might  not  see  again. 
Staniford  watched  the  steamer  uneasily,  both  from 
the  Aroostook  and  from  the  shore,  where  he  strolled 
languidly  about  with  Dunham  part  of  the  day. 
When  she  sailed  in  the  evening,  he  felt  that  Hicks'* 
was  worth  twice  the  money. 


XVIII 

THE  young  men  did  not  come  back  to  the  ship  a i 
night,  but  went  to  a  hotel,  for  the  greater  conven- 
ience of  seeing  the  city.  They  had  talked  of  offer- 
ing to  show  Lydia  about,  but  their  talk  had  not 
ended  in  anything.  Vexed  with  himself  to  be 
vexed  at  such  a  thing,  Staniford  at  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  still  had  a  soreness  which  the  constant 
sight  of  her  irritated.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  said 
there  was  no  occasion,  perhaps  no  opportunity,  for 
her  to  speak,  yet  he  was  hurt  that  she  seemed  to 
have  seen  nothing  uncommon  in  his  risking  his  own 
life  for  that  of  a  man  like  Hicks.  He  had  set  the 
action  low  enough  in  his  own  speech ;  but  he  knew 
that  it  was  not  ignoble,  and  it  puzzled  him  that  it 
should  be  so  passed  over.  She  had  not  even  said  a 
word  of  congratulation  upon  his  own  escape.  It 
might  be  that  she  did  not  know  how,  or  did  not 
think  it  was  her  place  to  speak.  She  was  curiously 
estranged.  He  felt  aa  if  he  had  been  away,  and  she 
had  grown  from  a  young  girl  into  womanhood  dur- 
ng  his  absence.  This  fantastic  conceit  was  strong- 
est when  he  met  her  with  Captain  Jenness  one 
day.  He  had  found  friends  at  the  hotel,  as  on« 
Always  does  in  Italy,  if  one's  world  is  at  all  wide- 
—  some  young  ladies,  and  a  lady,  now  married, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       205 

with  whom  he  had  once  violently  flirted.  She  was 
willing  that  he  should  envy  her  husband;  that 
amused  him  in  his  embittered  mood;  he  let  her 
drive  him  about ;  and  they  met  Lydia  and  the  cap- 
tain, walking  together.  Staniford  started  up  from 
his  lounging  ease,  as  if  her  limpid  gaze  had  searched 
his  conscience,  and  bowed  with  an  air  which  did 
not  escape  his  companion. 

"  Ah  !  Who 's  that  ?  "  she  asked,  with  the  bold- 
Dees  which  she  made  pass  for  eccentricity. 

"  A  lady  of  my  acquaintance,"  said  Staniford,  at 
his  laziest  again. 

"  A  lady  ?  "  said  the  other,  with  an  inflection 
that  she  saw  hurt.  "  Why  the  marine  animal,  then  ? 
She  bowed  very  prettily  ;  she  blushed  prettily,  too/' 

"  She 's  a  very  pretty  girl,"  replied  Staniford. 

"  Charming  I     But  why  blush  ?  " 

"  I  Ve  heard  that  there  are  ladies  who  blush  for 
nothing." 

"  Is  she  Italian  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  in  voice." 

"  Oh,  an  American  prima  donna  !  "  Staniford  did 
not  answer.  "  Who  is  she  ?  Where  is  she  from  ?  " 

"  South  Bradfield,  Mass."  Stamford's  eyes  twin- 
kled at  her  pursuit,  which  he  did  not  trouble  himself 
to  turn  aside,  but  baffled  by  mere  impenetrability. 

The  party  at  the  hotel  suggested  that  the  young 
men  should  leave  their  ship  and  go  on  with  them  to 
Naples ;  Dunham  was  tempted,  for  he  could  have 
xeached  Dresden  sooner  by  land ;  but  Staniford  over- 


206       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

ruled  him,  and  at  the  end  of  four  days  they  went 
back  to  the  Aroostook.  They  said  it  was  like  get- 
ting home,  but  in  fact  they  felt  the  change  from  the 
airy  heights  and  b~^adths  of  the  hotel  to  the  sirnll 
cabin  and  the  closets  in  which  they  slept ;  it  was  not 
§o  great  alleviation  as  Captain  Jenness  seemed  to 
think  that  one  of  them  could  now  have  Hicks's  state- 
room. But  Dunham  took  everything  sweetly,  as  hia 
habit  was ;  and,  after  all,  they  were  meeting  their 
hardships  voluntarily.  Some  of  the  ladies  came  with 
them  in  the  boat  which  rowed  them  to  the  Aroos- 
took ;  the  name  made  them  laugh ;  that  lady  who 
wished  Staniford  to  regret  her  waved  him  her  hand 
kerchief  as  the  boat  rowed  away  again.  She  had 
with  difficulty  been  kept  from  coming  on  board  by 
the  refusal  of  the  others  to  come  with  her.  She 
had  contrived  to  associate  herself  with  him  again 
in  the  minds  of  the  others,  and  this,  perhaps,  was 
all  that  she  desired.  But  the  sense  of  her  frivolity 
—  her  not  so  much  vacant-mindedness  as  vacant- 
heartedness  —  was  like  a  stain,  and  he  painted  in 
Lydia's  face  when  they  first  met  the  reproach  which 
was  in  his  own  breast. 

Her  greeting,  however,  was  frank  and  cordial ;  it 
was  a  real  welcome.  Staniford  wondered  if  it  were 
not  more  frank  and  cordial  than  he  quite  liked,  and 
whether  she  was  merely  relieved  by  Hicks's  absence, 
s>r  had  freed  herself  from  that  certain  subjection  in 
which  she  had  hitherto  been  to  himself. 

Yet  it  was  charming  to  see  her  again  as  she  bad 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       207 

been  in  the  happiest  moments  of  the  past,  and  to 
feel  that,  Hicks  being  out  of  her  world,  her  trust  of 
everybody  in  it  was  perfect  once  more.  She  treated 
that  interval  of  coldness  and  diffidence  as  all  women 
know  how  to  treat  a  thing  which  they  wish  not  to 
have  been  ;  and  Staniford,  a  man  on  whom  no  pleaa- 
ing  art  of  her  sex  was  ever  lost,  admired  and  grate- 
fully accepted  the  effect  of  this.  He  fell  luxuriously 
into  the  old  habits  again.  They  had  still  almost 
the  time  of  a  steamer's  voyage  to  Europe  before 
them  ;  it  was  as  if  they  were  newly  setting  sail  from 
America.  The  first  night  after  they  left  Messina 
Staniford  found  her  in  her  place  in  the  waist  of  the 
ship,  and  sat  down  beside  her  there,  and  talked  ;  the 
next  night  she  did  not  come  ;  the  third  she  came,  and 
he  asked  her  to  walk  with  him.  The  elastic  touch 
of  her  hand  on  his  arm,  the  rhythmic  movement  of 
her  steps  beside  him,  were  things  that  seemed  always 
to  have  been.  She  told  him  of  what  she  had  seen 
and  done  in  Messina.  This  glimpse  of  Italy  had 
vividly  animated  her ;  she  had  apparently  found  a 
world  within  herself  as  well  as  without. 

With  a  suddenly  depressing  sense  of  loss,  Staniford 
had  a  prevision  of  splendor  in  her,  when  she  should 
have  wholly  blossomed  out  in  that  fervid  air  of  art 
and  beauty ;  he  would  fain  have  kept  her  still  a 
wilding  rosebud  of  the  New  England  wayside.  He 
hated  the  officers  who  should  wonder  at  her  when 
ihe  first  came  into  the  Square  of  St.  Mark  with  her 
aunt  and  uncie. 


208       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Her  talk  about  Messina  went  on  ;  he  was  thinking 
&f  her,  and  not  of  her  talk  ;  but  he  saw  that  she  was 
not  going  to  refer  to  their  encounter.  "  You  make 
me  jealous  of  the  objects  of  interest  in  Messina,"  he 
said.  "  You  seem  to  remember  seeing  everything 
but  me,  there." 

She  stopped  abruptly.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  after  a 
deep  breath,  "  I  saw  you  there  ;  "  and  she  did  not 
offer  to  go  on  again. 

"  Where  were  you  going,  that  morning  ?  " 

"  Oh,  to  the  cathedral.  Captain  Jenness  left  me 
there,  and  I  looked  all  through  it  till  he  came  back 
from  the  consulate." 

"  Left  you  there  alone !  "  cried  Stamford. 

"  Yes  ;  I  told  him  I  should  not  feel  lonely,  and  1 
should  not  stir  out  of  it  till  he  came  back.  I  took 
one  of  those  little  pine  chairs  and  sat  down,  when  I 
got  tired,  and  looked  at  the  people  coming  to  wor- 
ship, and  the  strangers  with  their  guide-books." 

"  Did  any  of  them  look  at  you  ?  " 

"  They  stared  a  good  deal.  It  seems  to  be  the 
custom  in  Europe;  but  I  told  Captain  Jenness  I 
should  probably  have  to  go  about  by  myself  in  Ven- 
ice, as  my  aunt's  an  invalid,  and  I  had  better  get 
used  to  it." 

She  paused,  and  seemed  to  be  referring  the  point 
to  Stamford. 

"  Yes,  —  oh,  yes,"  he  said. 

"Captain  Jenness  said  it  was  their  way,  ovei 
here,"  she  resumed  ;  "  but  he  guessed  I  had  as  inucb 
"ight  in  a  church  as  anybody." 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.  209 

44  The  captain's  common  sense  is  infallible,"  an- 
swered Staniford.  He  was  ashamed  to  know  that 
the  beautiful  young  girl  was  as  improperly  alone  in 
church  as  she  would  have  been  in  a  cafe*,  and  he  be- 
gan to  hate  the  European  world  for  the  fact.  It 
seemed  better  to  him  that  the  Aroostook  should  pnt 
about  and  sail  back  to  Boston  with  her,  as  she  was, 
—  better  that  she  should  be  going  to  her  aunt  i& 
South  Bradfield  than  to  her  aunt  in  Venice.  44  We 
shall  soon  be  at  our  journey's  end,  now,"  he  said, 
after  a  while. 

"  Yes  ;  the  captain  thinks  in  about  eight  days,  if 
we  have  good  weather." 

44  Shall  you  be  sorry  ?  " 

44  Oh,  I  like  the  sea  very  well." 

44  But  the  new  life  you  are  coming  to,  — -  does  n't 
that  alarm  you  sometimes  ?  " 

44  Yes,  it  does,"  she  admitted,  with  a  kind  of  re- 
luctance. 

44  So  much  that  you  would  like  to  turn  back  from 
it?" 

44  Oh,  no ! "  she  answered  quickly.  Of  course 
not,  Staniford  thought ;  nothing  could  be  worse  than 
going  back  to  South  Bradfield.  44 1  keep  thinking 
fibout  it,"  she  added.  44  You  say  Venice  is  such  a 
very  strange  place.  Is  it  any  use  my  having  seen 
Messina  ?  " 

"Oh,  all  Italian  cities  have  something  in  com- 
non." 

"  I  presume,"  she  went  on, 44  that  after  I  get  thert 

14 


210  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

everything  will  become  natural.  But  I  don't  like 
to  look  forward.  It  —  scares  me.  I  can't  form  any 
idea  of  it." 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,"  said  Stamford.  "  It '« 
only  more  beautiful  than  anything  you  can  imagine." 

44  Yes  —  yes ;  I  know,"  Lydia  answered. 

46  And  do  you  really  dread  getting  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  dread  it,"  she  said. 

"Why,"  returned    Staniford    lightly,  "so  do  I 
but  it 's  for  a  different  reason,  I  'm  afraid.     I  should 
like  such  a  voyage  as  this  to  go  on  forever.     Now 
and  then  I  think  it  will ;  it  seems  always  to  have 
gone  on.     Can  you  remember  when  it  began  ?  " 

"  A  great  while  ago,"  she  answered,  humoring 
his  fantasy,  ubut  I  can  remember."  She  paused  a 
long  while.  "I  don't  know,"  she  said  at  last, 
44  whether  I  can  make  you  understand  just  how  I 
feel.  But  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  died,  and  this 
long  voyage  was  a  kind  of  dream  that  I  was  going 
to  wake  up  from  in  another  world.  I  often  used  to 
think,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  that  when  I  got 
to  heaven  it  would  be  lonesome  —  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  express  it.  You  say  that  Italy  — 
that  Venice  —  is  so  beautiful ;  but  if  I  don't  know 
smy  one  there  "  —  She  stopped,  as  if  she  had  gone 
coo  far. 

44  But  you  do  know  somebody  there,"  said  Stani- 
k>rd.  44  Your  aunt "  — 

*  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  and  looked  away. 

u  But  the  people  in   this  long  dream,  —  you  're 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       211 

going  to  let  some  of  them  appear  to  you  there,"  he 
suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  reflecting  his  lighter  humor, 
u  I  shall  want  to  see  them,  or  I  shall  not  know  I 
am  the  same  person,  and  I  must  be  sure  of  myselt, 
at  least." 

"And  you  would  n't  like  to  go  back  to  earth  — 
to  South  Bradfield  again  ?  "  he  asked  presently. 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  All  that  seems  ovei 
forever.  I  could  n't  go  back  there  and  be  what  I 
was.  I  could  have  stayed  there,  but  I  could  n't  go 
back." 

Staniford  laughed.  "  I  see  that  it  is  n't  the  other 
world  that 's  got  hold  of  you  !  It 's  this  world  !  I 
don't  believe  you  '11  be  unhappy  in  Italy.  But  it 's 
pleasant  to  think  you  've  been  so  contented  on  the 
Aroostook  that  you  hate  to  leave  it.  I  don't  believe 
there  's  a  man  on  the  ship  that  would  n't  feel  per- 
sonally flattered  to  know  that  you  liked  being  her*. 
Even  that  poor  fellow  who  parted  from  us  at  Mes- 
sina was  anxious  that  you  should  think  as  kindly  o! 
him  as  you  could.  He  knew  that  he  had  behaved 
in  a  way  to  shock  you,  and  he  was  very  sorry.  He 
left  a  message  with  me  for  you.  He  thought  you 
would  like  to  know  that  he  was  ashamed  of  him- 
self." 

"  I  pitied  him,"  said  Lydia  succinctly.  It  waa 
the  first  time  that  she  had  referred  to  Hicks,  ana 
Btaniford  found  it  in  character  for  her  to  limit  he*- 
lelf  to  this  sparse  comment.  Evidently,  her  com* 


212  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

passion  was  a  religious  duty.  Staniford's  genefos 
ity  came  easy  to  him. 

"  I  feel  bound  to  say  that  Hicks  was  not  a  bad 
fellow.  I  disliked  him  immensely,  and  I  ought  to 
do  him  justice,  now  he  's  gone.  He  deserved  all 
your  pity.  He  's  a  doomed  man  ;  his  vice  is  irrep- 
arable ;  he  can't  resist  it."  Lydia  did  not  say 
anything:  women  do  not  generalize  in  these  mat- 
ters ;  perhaps  they  cannot  pity  the  faults  of  those 
they  do  not  love.  Staniford  only  forgave  Hicks 
the  more.  "  I  can't  say  that  up  to  the  last  moment 
I  thought  him  anything  but  a  poor,  common  little 
creature ;  and  yet  I  certainly  did  feel  a  greater 
kindness  for  him  after — what  I  —  after  what  had 
happened.  He  left  something  more  than  a  message 
for  you,  Miss  Blood ;  he  left  his  steamer  chair 
yonder,  for  you." 

"For  me?"  demanded  Lydia.  Staniford  felt 
her  thrill  and  grow  rigid  upon  his  arm,  with  re- 
fusal. "  I  will  not  have  it.  He  had  no  right  to 
do  so.  He — he  —  was  dreadful!  I  will  give  it  to 
you ! "  she  said,  suddenly.  "  He  ought  to  have 
^iven  it  to  you.  You  did  everything  for  him ;  you 
saved  his  life." 

It  was  clear  that  she  did  not  sentimentalize 
Hicks's  case ;  and  Staniford  had  some  doubt  as  to 
the  value  she  set  upon  what  he  had  done,  even  now 
ihe  had  recognized  it. 

He  said,  "  I  think  you  overestimate  my  service  to 
bim,  possibly.  I  dare  say  the  boat  could  hav« 
pfoked  him  up  in  good  time." 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  218 

*'  Yes,  that 's  what  the  captain  and  Mr.  Watter 
»on  and  Mr.  Mason  all  said,"  assented  Lydia. 

Staniford  was  nettled.  He  would  have  preferred 
A  devoted  belief  that  but  for  him  Hicks  must  have 
perished.  Besides,  what  she  said  still  gave  no  clew 
to  her  feeling  in  regard  to  himself.  He  was  obliged 
to  go  on,  but  he  went  on  as  indifferently  as  he 
could.  "  However,  it  was  hardly  a  question  for 
me  at  the  time  whether  he  could  have  been  got  out 
without  my  help.  If  I  had  thought  about  it  at 
all  —  which  I  did  n't  —  I  suppose  I  should  have 
thought  that  it  would  n't  do  to  take  any  chances." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Lydia,  simply,  "  you  coald  n't 
have  done  anything  less  than  you  did." 

In  his  heart  Staniford  had  often  thought  that  he 
could  have  done  very  much  less  than  jump  over- 
board after  Hicks,  and  could  very  properly  have 
left  him  to  the  ordinary  life-saving  apparatus  of 
the  ship.  But  if  he  had  been  putting  the  matter 
to  some  lady  in  society  who  was  aggressively  prais- 
ing him  for  his  action,  he  would  have  said  just 
what  Lydia  had  said  for  him,  —  that  he  could  not 
have  done  anything  less.  He  might  have  said  it, 
however,  in  such  a  way  that  the  lady  would  have 
pursued  his  retreat  from  her  praises  with  still 
fonder  applause  ;  whereas  this  girl  seemed  to  think 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  said.  He  began  to 
stand  in  awe  of  her  heroic  simplicity.  If  she  drew 
erery-day  breath  in  that  lofty  air,  what  could  she 
really  think  of  him,  who  preferred  on  principle  the 


214       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

atmosphere  of  the  valley?  "Do  you  know,  Miaa 
Blood,"  he  said  gravely,  "that  you  pay  me  a  verv 
high  compliment  ?  " 

"  How  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  rate  my  maximum  as  my  mean  tempera 
tore."     He  felt  that  she  listened  inquiringly.     "  1 
don't  think  I  'm  habitually  up  to  a  thing  of  that 
kind,"  he  explained. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  assented,  quietly  ;  "  but  when  he 
struck  at  you  so,  you  had  to  do  everything." 

"  Ah,  you  have  the  pitiless  Puritan  conscience 
fchat  takes  the  life  out  of  us  all !  "  cried  Stamford, 
with  sudden  bitterness.  Lydia  seemed  startled, 
shocked,  and  her  hand  trembled  on  his  arm,  as  if 
she  had  a  mind  to  take  it  away.  "  I  was  a  long 
time  laboring  up  to  that  point.  I  suppose  you  are 
always  there  ! " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  turning  her  head 
round  with  the  slow  motion  of  her  beauty,  and  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  face. 

"  I  can't  explain  now.  I  will,  by  and  by,  —  when 
we  get  to  Venice,"  he  added,  with  quick  lightness. 

"  You  put  off  everything  till  we  get  to  Venice,' 
she  said,  doubtfully. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  It  was  you  who  did  it  the 
last  time." 

"  Was  it  ?  "  She  laughed.  "  So  it  was !  I  wan 
thinking  it  was  you." 

It  consoled  him  a  little  that  she  should  have  con- 
tused them  in  her  thought,  in  this  way.     "  What 
if.  V^YI  ^ere  to  tell  me  in  Venice0  "  he  ask«*L 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       216 

"  I  can't  think,  now.' 

"  Very  likely  something  of  yourself  —  or  myself, 
A.  third  person  might  say  our  conversational  range 
^as  limited." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  very  egotistica^  ?  "  she  asked, 
In  the  gay  tone  which  gave  him  relief  from  tbe 
3»nse  of  oppressive  elevation  of  mind  in  her. 

"  It  is  in  me,  —  not  in  you." 

"  But  I  don't  see  the  difference." 

"  I  will  explain  sometime." 

"  When  we  get  to  Venice  ?  " 

They  both  laughed.  It  was  very  nonsensical , 
but  nonsense  is  sometimes  enough. 

When  they  were  serious  again,  "  Tell  me,"  he 
said,  "  what  you  thought  of  that  lady  in  Messina, 
the  other  day." 

She  did  not  affect  not  to  know  whom  he  meant. 
She  merely  said,  "  I  only  saw  her  a  moment." 

"But  you  thought  something.  If  we  only  see 
people  a  second  we  form  some  opinion  of  them." 

"  She  is  very  fine-appearing,"  said  Lydia. 

Stamford  smiled  at  the  countrified  phrase;  he 
had  observed  that  when  she  spoke  her  mind  she 
used  an  instinctive  good  language ;  when  she  would 
not  speak  it,  she  fell  into  the  phraseology  of  the 
people  with  whom  she  had  lived.  "  I  see  you  don't 
wish  to  say,  because  you  think  she  is  a  friend  of 
mine.  But  you  can  speak  out  freely.  We  were 
not  friends ;  we  were  enemies,  if  anything." 

Stamford's  meaning  was  clear  enough  to  himself  : 


216  THE  LADY  OF   THE  AEOOSTOOK. 

bat  Lydia  paused,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  he  ^  *i 
jesting  or  not,  before  she  asked,  "  Why  were  yen 
riding  with  her  then  ?  " 

"  I  was  driving  with  her,"  he  replied,  "  I  suppose, 
because  she  asked  me." 

"  Asked  you  !  "  cried  the  girl ;  and  he  perceived 
her  moral  recoil  both  from  himself  and  from  a 
woman  who  could  be  so  unseemly.  That  lady 
would  have  found  it  delicious  if  she  could  have 
known  that  a  girl  placed  like  Lydia  was  shocked  at 
her  behavior.  But  he  was  not  amused.  He  was 
touched  by  the  simple  self-respect  that  would  not 
let  her  suffer  from  what  was  not  wrong  in  itself, 
but  that  made  her  shrink  from  a  voluntary  sem- 
blance of  unwomanliness.  It  endeared  her  not  only 
to  his  pity,  but  to  that  sense  which  in  every  man 
consecrates  womanhood,  and  waits  for  some  woman 
to  be  better  than  all  her  sex.  Again  he  felt  the 
pang  he  had  remotely  known  before.  What  would 
she  do  with  these  ideals  of  hers  in  that  depraved 
Old  World,  —  so  long  past  trouble  for  its  sins  as  to 
have  got  a  sort  of  sweetness  and  innocence  in  them, 
—  where  her  facts  would  be  utterly  irreconcilable 
with  her  ideals,  and  equally  incomprehensible  ? 

They  walked  up  and  down  a  few  turns  without 
•peaking  again  of  that  lady.  He  knew  that  she 
grew  momently  more  constrained  toward  him ;  that 
the  pleasure  of  the  time  was  spoiled  for  her ;  that 
ihe  had  lost  her  trust  in  him ;  and  this  half  amused, 
3ali  afflicted  him.  It  did  not  surprise  him  when. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       217 

ftt  their  third  approach  to  the  cabin  gangway,  she 
withdrew  her  hand  from  his  arm  and  said,  stiffly, 
"  I  think  I  will  go  down."  But  she  did  not  go  at 
once.  She  lingered,  and  after  a  certain  hesitation 
she  said,  without  looking  at  him,  "I  didn't  ex 
press  what  I  wanted  to,  about  Mr.  Hicks,  and  — 
what  you  did.  It  is  what  I  thought  you  would  do." 
"  Thanks,"  said  Staniford,  with  sincere  humility, 
He  understood  how  she  had  had  this  in  her  mind, 
and  how  she  would  not  withhold  justice  from  him 
because  he  had  fallen  in  her  esteem ;  how  rather 
she  would  be  the  more  resolute  to  do  him  justice 
for  that  reason. 


XIX 

HE  could  see  that  she  avoided  being  alone  witi 
him  the  next  day,  but  he  took  it  for  a  sign  ot  re- 
lenting, perhaps  helpless  relenting,  that  she  was  in* 
her  usual  place  on  deck  in  the  evening.  He  went 
to  her,  and,  "  I  see  that  you  have  n't  forgiven  me," 
he  said. 

"  Forgiven  you  ?  "  she  echoed. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  for  letting  that  lady  ask  me 
to  drive  with  her." 

"  I  never  said  "  —  she  began. 

"  Oh,  no  !  But  I  knew  it,  all  the  same.  It  was 
not  such  a  very  wicked  thing,  as  those  things  go. 
But  I  liked  your  not  liking  it.  Will  you  let  me 
say  something  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  rather  breathlessly. 

"  You  must  think  it 's  rather  an  odd  thing  to  say, 
as  I  ask  leave.  It  is  ;  and  I  hardly  know  how  to 
say  it.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  've  made  bold  to 
depend  a  great  deal  upon  your  good  opinion  foi 
my  peace  of  mind,  of  late,  and  that  I  can't  well  do 
without  it  now." 

She  stole  the  quickest  of  her  bird-like  glances  at 
him,  but  did  not  speak ;  and  though  she  seemed, 
to  his  anxious  fancy,  poising  for  flight,  she  re- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       219 

enained,  and  merely  looked  away,  like  the  bird  that 
will  not  or  cannot  fly. 

"  You  don't  resent  my  making  you  my  outer  con- 
science, dc  you,  and  my  knowing  that  you  're  not 
quite  pleased  with  me  ?  " 

She  looked  down   and  away  with  one  of  thoa 
tarns  of  the  head,  so  precious  when  one  who  be 
holds  them  is  young,  and  caught  at  the  fringe  of 
her  shawl.     "  I  have  no  right,"  she  began. 

"  Oh,  I  give  you  the  right !  "  he  cried,  with 
passionate  urgence.  "  You  have  the  right.  Judge 
me  I  "  She  only  looked  more  grave,  and  he  hurried 
on.  "  It  was  no  great  harm  of  her  to  ask  me ; 
that 's  common  enough  ;  but  it  was  harm  of  me  to 
go  if  I  did  n't  quite  respect  her,  —  if  I  thought 
her  silly,  and  was  willing  to  be  amused  with  her. 
One  has  n't  any  right  to  do  that.  I  saw  this  when 
I  saw  you."  She  still  hung  her  head,  and  looked 
away.  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something,"  he 
pursued.  "  Do  you  remember  once  —  the  second 
time  we  talked  together — that  you  said  Dunham 
was  in  earnest,  and  you  would  n't  answer  when  I 
&sked  you  about  myself  ?  Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  did  n't  care,  then.  I  care  very  much  now. 
You  don't  think  me  —  you  think  I  can  be  in  ear- 
nest when  I  will,  don't  you  ?  And  that  I  can  re- 
gret —  that  I  really  wish  "  —  He  took  the  hand 
that  played  with  the  shawl-fringe,  but  she  Boftl; 
irew  it  away. 


920       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

44  Ah,  I  see  I "  he  said.  "  You  can't  believe  in 
me.  You  don't  believe  that  I  can  be  a  good  man 

—  like  Dunham !  " 

She  answered  in  the  same  breathless  murmur, 
'*  I  think  you  are  good."  Her  averted  face  drooped 
lower. 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  some  day !  "  he  cried, 
with  joyful  vehemence.  "  Will  you  let  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  with  the  swift  expulsion 
of  breath  that  sometimes  comes  with  tears.  She 
rose  quickly  and  turned  away.  He  did  not  try  to 
keep  her  from  leaving  him.  His  heart  beat  tumult- 
uously  ;  his  brain  seemed  in  a  whirl.  It  all  meant 
nothing,  or  it  meant  everything. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  Miss  Blood  ?  "  asked 
Dunham,  who  joined  him  at  this  moment.  "  I  just 
spoke  to  her  at  the  foot  of  the  gangway  stairs,  and 
she  wouldn't  answer  me." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  Miss  Blood — I  don't 
know  what 's  the  matter,"  said  Staniford.  "  Look 
here,  Dunham  ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you  —  I  want 
to  tell  you  something  —  I  want  you  to  advise  me 

—  I  —     There  's  only  one  thing  that  can  explain 
it,  that  can  excuse  it.     There  's  only  one  thing  that 
can  justify  all  that  I  've  done  and  said,  and  that 
can  not  only  justify  it,  but  can   make  it  sacredly 
und  eternally  right,  —  right  for  her  and  right  for 
me.     Yes,  it 's  reason  for  all,  and  for  a  thousand 
times  more.     It  makes  it  fair  for  me  to  have  let 
her  gee  that  I  thought  her  beautiful  and  charming 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       221 

that  I  delighted  to  be  with  her,  that  I —  Dunham/' 
3iied  Stamford,  "  I  'm  in  love  I  " 

Dunham  started  at  the  burst  in  which  these  rav- 
ings ended.  "  Staniford,"  he  faltered,  with  grave 
regret,  "  I  hope  not  I  " 

44  You  hope  not  ?  You  —  you  —  What  do  you 
mean  ?  How  else  can  I  free  myself  from  the  self- 
reproach  of  having  trifled  with  her,  of  "  — 

Dunham  shook  his  head  compassionately.  "  You 
can't  do  it  that  way.  Your  only  safety  is  to  fight 
it  to  the  death,  —  to  run  from  it." 

"But  if  I  don't  choose  to  fight  it?"  shouted 
Staniford,  —  "if  I  don't  choose  to  run  from  it  ?  If 
I"  — 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  hush !  The  whole  ship 
will  hear  you,  and  you  ought  n't  to  breathe  it  in 
the  desert.  I  saw  how  it  was  going !  I  dreaded 
it ;  I  knew  it ;  and  I  longed  to  speak.  I  'm  to 
blame  for  not  speaking  !  " 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  would  have  author 
ized  you  to  speak  ?  "  demanded  Staniford,  haugh- 
tily. 

44  Only  my  regard  for  you ;  only  what  urges  me 
to  speak  now  !  You  must  fight  it,  Staniford,  whether 
you  choose  or  not.  Think  of  yourself,  —  think  of 
her !  Think  —  you  have  always  been  my  ideal  of 
nonor  and  truth  and  loyalty  —  think  of  her  hus- 
oand"  — 

"  Her  husband  !  "  gasped  Staniford.  "  Whosa 
nusband  ?  What  the  deuce  —  who  the  deuce  — 
*re  you  talking  about,  Dunham  ?  " 


222  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AEOOSTOOK. 

"  Mrs.  Rivers." 

"Mrs.  Rivers?  That  flimsy,  feather-headed, 
ftmpty-hearted — eyes-maker!  That  frivolous,  ri- 
diculous—  Pah!  And  did  you  think  that  I  was 
talking  of  her  f  Did  you  think  I  was  in  love  with 
her?" 

"  Why,"  stammered  Dunham,  "  I  supposed  —  I 
thought  —  At  Messina,  you  know  "  — 

"  Oh !  "  Staniford  walked  the  deck's  length 
ftway.  "  Well,  Dunham,"  he  said,  as  he  came 
back,  "  you  've  spoilt  a  pretty  scene  with  your  rot 
about  Mrs.  Rivers.  I  was  going  to  be  romantic  ! 
But  perhaps  I  'd  better  say  in  ordinary  newspaper 
English  that  I  Ve  just  found  out  that  I'm  in  love 
with  Miss  Blood." 

"  With  her  ! "  cried  Dunham,  springing  at  his 
hand. 

"  Oh,  come  now !  Don't  you  be  romantic,  after 
knocking  my  chance." 

"  Why,  but  Staniford !  "  said  Dunham,  wringing 
his  hand  with  a  lover's  joy  in  another's  love  and  his 
relief  that  it  was  not  Mrs.  Rivers.  "I  never  should 
have  dreamt  of  such  a  thing !  " 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Staniford,  shortly. 

"  Oh,  the  way  you  talked  at  first,  you  know, 
»nd"  — 

"  I  suppose  even  people  who  get  married  have 
lomething  to  take  back  about  each  other,"  said 
Stamford,  rather  sheepishly.  "  However,"  he  added, 
with  an  impulse  of  frankness,  "  I  don't  know  that  [ 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK,       223 

ihould  have  dreamt  of  it  myself,  and  I  don't  blame 
you.  But  it 's  a  fact,  nevertheless." 

"  Why,  of  course.  It 's  splendid  !  Certainly 
U  *s  magnificent  I  "  There  was  undoubtedly  ft 
qualification,  a  reservation,  in  Dunham's  tone.  He 
might  have  thought  it  right  to  bring  the  inequali- 
ties of  the  affair  to  Stamford's  mind.  With  all  his 
effusive  kindliness  of  heart  and  manner,  he  had  a 
keen  sense  of  social  fitness,  a  nice  feeling  for  con- 
vention. But  a  man  does  not  easily  suggest  to 
another  that  the  girl  with  whom  he  has  just  de- 
clared himself  in  love  is  his  inferior.  What  Dun- 
ham finally  did  say  was :  "  It  jumps  with  all  your 
ideas  —  all  your  old  talk  about  not  caring  to  marry 
a  society  girl "  — 

"  Society  might  be  very  glad  of  such  a  girl  I  " 
aaid  Staniford,  stifHy. 

"  Yes,  yes,  certainly ;  but  I  mean  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean.  It 's  all  right," 
said  Staniford.  "  But  it  is  n't  a  question  of  marry- 
ing yet.  I  can't  be  sure  she  understood  me,  —  I  've 
been  so  long  understanding  myself.  And  yet,  she 
must,  she  must  1  She  must  believe  it  by  this  time, 
or  else  that  I  'm  the  most  infamous  scoundrel  alive. 
When  I  think  how  I  have  sought  her  out,  and  fol- 
?owed  her  up,  and  asked  her  judgment,  and  hung 
upon  her  words,  I  feel  that  I  oughtn't  to  lose  a 
moment  in  being  explicit.  I  don't  care  for  myself ; 
ihe  can  take  me  or  leave  me,  as  she  likes ;  but  il 
ihe  does  n't  understand,  she  must  n't  be  left  in  sui»- 


224       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

pense  as  to  my  meaning."  He  seemed  to  be  speak 
ing  to  Dunham,  but  he  was  really  thinking  aloud, 
and  Dunham  waited  for  some  sort  of  question  b<* 
fore  he  spoke.  "  But  it 's  a  great  satisfaction  to 
have  had  it  out  with  myself.  I  have  n't  got  to 
pretend  any  more  that  I  hang  about  her,  and  look 
fbt  her,  and  go  mooning  round  after  her,  for  thia 
no-reason  and  that ;  I  've  got  the  best  reason  in  the 
world  for  playing  the  fool,  —  I  'm  in  love  !  "  He 
drew  a  long,  deep  breath.  "  It  simplifies  matters 
immensely  to  have  reached  the  point  of  acknowl- 
edging that.  Why,  Dunham,  those  four  days  at 
Messina  almost  killed  me !  They  settled  it.  When 
that  woman  was  in  full  fascination  it  made  me 
gasp.  I  choked  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air;  for  a 
taste  of  spring-water  ;  for  —  Lurella  !  "  It  was  a 
long  time  since  Staniford  had  used  this  name,  and 
the  sound  of  it  made  him  laugh.  "  It 's  droll  — 
but  I  always  think  of  her  as  Lurella;  I  wish  it 
was  her  name  1  Why,  it  was  like  heaven  to  see  her 
face  when  I  got  back  to  the  ship.  After  we  met 
her  that  day  at  Messina,  Mrs.  Rivers  tried  her  best 
to  get  out  of  me  who  it  was,  and  where  I  met  her. 
But  I  flatter  myself  that  I  was  equal  to  that  emei 
gency." 

Dunham  said  nothing,  at  once.     Then,  "  Stam- 
ford," he  faltered,  "  she  got  it  out  of  me." 

"Did  you  tell  her  who  Lu —  who  Miss  Blood 
iras?" 

«  Yea." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       225 

"  And  how  I  happened  to  be  acquainted  with 
her  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

'*  And  that  we  were  going  on  to  Trieste  with 
her?" 

"  She  had  it  out  of  me  before  I  knew,"  said 
Dunham.  "  I  did  n't  realize  what  she  was  after  ; 
and  I  did  n't  realize  how  peculiar  the  situation 
might  seem"  — 

"  I  see  nothing  peculiar  in  the  situation,"  inter- 
rupted Stamford,  haughtily.  Then  he  laughed  con- 
sciously. "  Or,  yes,  I  do  ;  of  course  I  do !  You 
must  know  her  to  appreciate  it,  though."  He 
mused  a  while  before  he  added  :  "  No  wonder  Mrs, 
Rivers  was  determined  to  come  aboard!  I  wish 
we  had  let  her,  —  confound  her !  She  '11  think 
I  was  ashamed  of  it.  There 's  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of !  By  Heaven,  I  should  like  to  hear  any 
one  "  —  Staniford  broke  off,  and  laughed,  and  then 
bit  his  lip,  smiling.  Suddenly  he  burst  out  again, 
frowning :  "  I  won't  view  it  in  that  light.  I  refuse 
to  consider  it  from  that  point  of  view.  As  far  as 
I  'm  concerned,  it 's  as  regular  as  anything  else  in 
life.  It  's  the  same  to  me  as  if  she  were  in  her 
own  house,  and  I  had  come  there  to  tell  her  that 
she  has  my  future  in  her  hand.  She  's  such  a  lady 
by  instinct  that  she  's  made  it  all  a  triumph,  and 
I  thank  God  that  I  have  n't  done  or  said  anything 
to  mar  it,  Even  that  beast  of  a  Hicks  did  n't ;  it 's 
no  merit.  I  've  made  love  to  her,  —  I  own  it ;  of 
II 


226  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

course  I  have,  because  I  was  in  love  with  her  and 
my  fault  has  been  that  I  have  n't  made  love  tc  her 
openly,  but  have  gone  on  fancying  that  I  was 
studying  her  character,  or  some  rubbish  of  that 
sort.  But  the  fault  is  easily  repaired."  He  turned 
about,  as  if  he  were  going  to  look  for  Lydia  at 
mce,  and  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  But  he  halted 
abruptly,  and  sat  down.  "  No  ;  that  won't  do,"  he 
said.  "  That  won't  do  at  all."  He  remained 
thinking,  and  Dunham,  unwilling  to  interrupt  his 
reverie,  moved  a  few  paces  off.  "  Dunham,  don't 
go.  I  want  your  advice.  Perhaps  I  don't  see  it 
in  the  right  light." 

"  How  is  it  you  see  it,  my  dear  fellow  ?  "  asked 
Dunham. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  Ve  a  right  to  be  ex- 
plicit with  her,  here.  It  seems  like  taking  an  mi- 
vantage.  In  a  few  days  she  will  be  with  her 
friends  "  — 

"You  must  wait,"  said  Dunham,  decisively. 
"  You  can't  speak  to  her  before  she  is  in  their  care  ; 
it  would  n't  be  the  thing.  You  're  quite  right 
about  that." 

"  No,  it  would  n't  be  the  thing,"  groaned  Stani- 
ford.  "  But  how  is  it  all  to  go  on  till  then  ?"  he 
demanded  desperately. 

Why,  just  as  it  has  before,"  answered  Dunham, 
irith  easy  confidence. 

"  But  is  that  fair  tc  her  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?     You  mean  to  say  to  her  at  the 


TBS  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       221 

right  time  all  that  a  man  can.  Till  that  time 
comes  I  have  n't  the  least  doubt  she  understandf 
you." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Staniford,  simply, 
He  had  suddenly  grown  very  subject  and  meek  to 
Dunham. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  with  the  superiority  of  a 
betrothed  lover ;  "  women  are  very  quick  about 
those  things." 

"  I  suppose  you  're  right,"  sighed  Staniford,  with 
nothing  of  his  wonted  arrogant  pretension  in  re- 
gard to  women's  moods  and  minds,  "  I  suppose 
you  're  right.  And  you  would  go  on  just  as  be- 
fore?" 

"  I  would,  indeed.  How  could  you  change  with- 
out making  her  unhappy  —  if  she 's  interested  in 
you?" 

"  That 's  true.  I  could  imagine  worse  things 
:han  going  on  just  as  before.  I  suppose,"  he  added, 
''  that  something  more  explicit  has  its  charms ;  but 
n,  mutual  understanding  is  very  pleasant,  —  if  it  is 
R,  mutual  understanding."  He  looked  inquiringly 
lit  Dunham. 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  of  course  I  don't  know.  You 
ought  to  be  the  best  judge  of  that.  But  I  don't 
believe  your  impressions  would  deceive  you." 

"  Yours  did,  once,"  suggested  Staniford,  in  sus- 
pense. 

•*  Yes ;  but  I  was  not  in  love  with  her,"  explained 
Dunham. 


228       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Staniford,  with  a  breath  of 
relief.  "  And  you  think  —  Well,  I  must  wait  I  " 
he  concluded,  grimly.  "But  don't  —  don't  men- 
tion this  matter,  Dunham,  unless  I  do.  Don't 
keep  an  eye  on  me,  old  fellow.  Or,  yes,  you  must  I 
You  can't  help  it.  I  want  to  tell  you,  Dunham, 
what  makes  me  think  she  may  be  a  not  wholly  un- 
interested spectator  of  my  —  sentiments."  He 
made  full  statement  of  words  and  looks  and  tones. 
Dunham  listened  with  the  patience  which  one  lover 
has  with  another. 


XX 

THE  few  days  that  yet  remained  of  their  yoyags 
wrere  falling  in  the  latter  half  of  September,  and 
Staniford  tried  to  make  the  young  girl  see  the  suns 
passing  loveliness  of  that  season  under  Italian  skies , 
the  fierceness  of  the  summer  is  then  past,  and  at 
night,  when  chiefly  they  inspected  the  firmament, 
the  heaven  has  begun  to  assume  something  of  the 
intense  blue  it  wears  in  winter.  She  said  yes,  it 
was  very  beautiful,  but  she  could  not  see  that  the 
days  were  finer,  or  the  skies  bluer,  than  those  of 
September  at  home  ;  and  he  laughed  at  her  loyalty 
to  the  American  weather.  "  Don't  you  think  so, 
too  ?  "  she  asked,  as  if  it  pained  her  that  he  should 
ike  Italian  weather  better. 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  yes,"  he  said.  Then  he  turned  the 
talk  on  her,  as  he  did  whenever  he  could.  "  I  like 
your  meteorological  patriotism.  If  I  were  a  woman, 
I  should  stand  by  America  in  everything." 

"  Don't  you  as  a  man  ?  "  she  pursued,  still  anx- 
iously. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  he  answered.  "  But  women  owe 
jur  continent  a  double  debt  of  fidelity.  It's  the 
Paradise  of  women,  it 's  their  Promised  Land, 
where  they  Ve  been  led  up  out  of  the  Egyptian 
bondage  of  Europe.  It's  the  home  of  their  free 


230       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOR. 

iom.  It  is  recognized  in  America  that  women  hava 
Donsciences  and  souls." 

Lydia  looked  very  grave.  "  Is  it  —  is  it  so  differ 
ant  with  women  in  Europe  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Very,"  he  replied,  and  glanced  at  her  half- 
laughingly,  half-tenderly. 

After  a  while,  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,"  she 
said,  "just  what  you  mean.  I  wish  you  would  tell 
me  what  is  the  difference." 

"  Oh,  it 's  a  long  story.  I  will  tell  you  —  when 
we  get  to  Venice."  The  well-worn  jest  served  if.s 
purpose  again ;  she  laughed,  and  he  continued : 
"  By  the  way,  just  when  will  that  be  ?  The  cap- 
tain says  that  if  this  wind  holds  we  shall  be  in 
Trieste  by  Friday  afternoon.  I  suppose  your 
friends  will  meet  you  there  on  Saturday,  and  that 
you  '11  go  back  with  them  to  Venice  at  once." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Lydia. 

"  Well,  if  I  should  come  on  Monday,  would  that 
be  too  soon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  she  answered.  He  wondered  if  she 
had  been  vaguely  hoping  that  he  might  go  directly 
on  with  her  to  Venice.  They  were  together  all 
day,  now,  and  the  long  talks  went  on  from  early 
morning,  when  they  met  before  breakfast  on  deck, 
until  late  at  night,  when  they  parted  there,  with 
blushed  and  laughed  good-nights.  Sometimes  the 
krust  she  put  upon  his  unspoken  promises  was  ter- 
rible ;  it  seemed  to  condemn  his  reticence  as  fantas- 
ic  and  hazardous.  With  her,  at  least,  it  was  clear 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  23! 

lhat  this  love  was  the  first  ;  her  living  and  loving 
were  one.  He  longed  to  testify  the  devotion  which 
he  felt,  to  leave  it  unmistakable  and  safe  past  acci- 
lent  ;  he  thought  of  making  his  will,  in  which  he 
should  give  her  everything,  and  declare  her  su- 
premely dear  ;  he  could  only  rid  himself  of  this  by 
drawing  up  the  paper  in  writing,  and  then  he  easily 
tore  it  in  pieces. 

They  drew  nearer  together,  not  only  in  their  talk 
about  each  other,  but  in  what  they  said  of  different 
people  in  their  relation  to  themselves.  But  Stam 
ford's  pleasure  in  the  metaphysics  of  reciprocal  ap- 
preciation, his  wonder  at  the  quickness  with  which 
she  divined  characters  he  painfully  analyzed,  was 
not  greater  than  his  joy  in  the  pretty  hitch  of  the 
shoulder  with  which  she  tucked  her  handkerchief 
into  the  back  pocket  of  her  sack,  or  the  picturesque- 
*iess  with  which  she  sat  facing  him,  and  leant  upon 
,he  rail,  with  her  elbow  wrapped  in  her  shawl,  and 
;he  fringe  gathered  in  the  hand  which  propped  her 
cheek.  He  scribbled  his  sketch-book  full  of  her 
contours  and  poses,  which  sometimes  he  caught  un- 
awares, and  which  sometimes  she  sat  for  him  to 
draw.  One  day,  as  they  sat  occupied  in  this,  "  I 
wonder,"  he  said,  "if  you  have  anything  of  my 
feeling,  nowadays.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  world 
had  gone  on  a  pleasure  excursion,  without  taking 
me  along,  and  I  was  enjoying  myself  very  much  at 


"Why,  yes,"  she  said,  joyously;  "do  you  have 
that  feeling,  too  ?  " 


232       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  I  wonder  what  it  is  makes  us  feel  so,"  he  venfr 
ured. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  returned,  "  the  long  voyage." 

"  I  shall  hate  to  have  the  world  come  back,  I  be- 
lieve," he  said,  reverting  to  the  original  figure. 
"Shall  you?" 

"You  know  I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  she 
answered,  in  lithe  evasion,  for  which  she  more  than 
atoned  with  a  conscious  look  and  one  of  her  dark 
blushes.  Yet  he  chose,  with  a  curious  cruelty,  to 
try  how  far  she  was  his. 

"  How  odd  it  would  be,"  he  said,  "  if  we  never 
should  have  a  chance  to  talk  up  this  voyage  of  ours 
when  it  is  over  !  " 

She  started,  in  a  way  that  made  his  heart  smite 
him.  "  Why,  you  said  you  "  —  And  then  she 
caught  herself,  and  struggled  pitifully  for  the  self- 
possession  she  had  lost.  She  turned  her  head 
away  ;  his  pulse  bounded. 

"  Did  you  think  I  would  n't  ?  I  am  living  for 
that."  He  took  the  hand  that  lay  in  her  lap  ;  she 
seemed  to  try  to  free  it,  but  she  had  not  the  strength 
or  will ;  she  could  only  keep  her  face  turned  from 


XXI 

THEY  arrived  Friday  afternoon  in  Trieste,  and 
Captain  Jenness  telegraphed  his  arrival  to  Lydia'e 
uncle  as  he  went  up  to  the  consulate  with  his  ship's 
papers.  The  next  morning  the  young  men  sent 
their  baggage  to  a  hotel,  but  they  came  back  for  a 
last  dinner  on  the  Aroostook.  They  all  pretended 
to  be  very  gay,  but  everybody  was  perturbed  and 
distraught.  Staniford  and  Dunham  had  paid  their 
way  handsomely  with  the  sailors,  and  they  had  re- 
turned with  remembrances  in  florid  scarfs  and  jew- 
elry for  Thomas  and  the  captain  and  the  officers. 
Dunham  had  thought  they  ought  to  get  something 
to  give  Lydia  as  a  souvenir  of  their  voyage  ;  it  was 
part  of  his  devotion  to  young  ladies  to  offer  them 
little  presents;  but  Staniford  overruled  him,  and 
said  there  should  be  nothing  of  the  kind.  They 
agreed  to  be  out  of  the  way  when  her  uncle  came, 
and  they  said  good-by  after  dinner.  She  came  on 
deck  to  watch  them  ashore.  Staniford  would  be  the 
last  to  take  leave.  As  he  looked  into  her  eyes,  he 
saw  brave  trust  of  him,  but  he  thought  a  sort  of 
troubled  wonder,  too,  as  if  she  could  not  under- 
stand his  reticence,  and  suffered  from  it.  There 
was  tho  same  latent  appeal  and  reproach  in  th€ 
poae  in  Thich  she  watched  their  boat  row  away 


234       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

She  stood  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  rail,  and 
her  slim  grace  outlined  against  the  sky.  He  waved 
hia  hand ;  she  answered  with  a  little  languid  wave 
of  hers ;  then  she  turned  away.  He  felt  as  if  he 
had  forsaken  her. 

The  afternoon  was  very  long.  Toward  night-fall 
he  eluded  Dunham,  and  wandered  back  to  the  ship 
in  the  hope  that  she  might  still  be  there.  But  she 
was  gone.  Already  everything  was  changed.  There 
was  bustle  and  discomfort ;  it  seemed  years  since 
he  had  been  there.  Captain  Jenness  was  ashore 
somewhere  ;  it  was  the  second  mate  who  told  Stan- 
iford  of  her  uncle's  coming. 

"  What  sort  of  person  was  he  ?  "  he  asked  vaguely. 

"  Oh,  well !  Dum  an  Englishman,  any  way," 
said  Mason,  in  a  tone  of  easy,  sociable  explanation. 

The  scruple  to  which  Staniford  had  been  holding 
himself  for  the  past  four  or  five  days  seemed  the 
most  incredible  of  follies,  —  the  most  fantastic,  the 
most  cruel.  He  hurried  back  to  the  hotel ;  when 
he  found  Dunham  coming  out  from  the  table,  tfhdte 
he  was  wild. 

"  I  have  been  the  greatest  fool  in  the  world, 
Dunham,"  he  said.  "  I  have  let  a  quixotic  quibble 
keep  me  from  speaking  when  I  ought  to  have 
spoken." 

Dunham  looked  at  him  in  stupefaction.  "  Where 
have  you  been  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Down  to  the  ship.  I  was  in  hopes  that  she 
night  be  still  there.  But  she  's  gone." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOCK.       236 

44  The  Aroostook  gone  ?  " 

"  Look  here,  Dunham,"  cried  Stamford,  angrily, 
*  this  is  the  second  time  you  've  done  that  I  If  you 
are  merely  thick-witted,  much  can  be  forgiven  to 
pour  infirmity;  but  if  you've  a  mind  to  joke,  let 
me  tell  you  you  choose  your  time  badly." 

"  I  'm  not  joking.  I  don't  know  what  you  'ra 
talking  about.  I  may  be  thick-witted,  as  you  say  ; 
or  you  may  be  scatter- witted,"  said  Dunham,  indig- 
nantly. "  What  are  you  after,  any  way  ?  " 

"  What  was  my  reason  for  not  being  explicit 
with  her ;  for  going  away  from  her  without  one 
honest,  manly,  downright  word;  for  sneaking  of! 
without  telling  her  that  she  was  more  than  life  to 
me,  and  that  if  she  cared  for  me  as  I  cared  for  her 
I  would  go  on  with  her  to  Venice,  and  meet  her 
people  with  her  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Dunham,  vaguely. 
"  We  agreed  that  there  would  be  a  sort  of  —  that 
she  ought  to  be  in  their  care  before  "  — 

"  Then  I  can  tell  you,"  interrupted  Stamford, 
"  that  we  agreed  upon  the  greatest  piece  of  nonsense 
that  ever  was.  A  man  can  do  no  more  than  offer 
himself,  and  if  he  does  less,  after  he's  tried  every- 
thing to  show  that  he 's  in  love  with  a  woman,  and 
to  make  her  in  love  with  him,  he 's  a  scamp  to  refrair, 
from  a  bad  motive,  and  an  ass  to  refrain  from  a  good 
one.  Why  in  the  name  of  Heaven  should  n't  I  have 
ipoken,  instead  of  leaving  her  to  eat  her  heart  out 
;a  wonder  at  my  delay,  and  to  doubt  and  suspect 


236       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

and  dread  —  Oh  ! "  he  shouted,  in  supreme  sell- 
contempt. 

Dunham  had  nothing  to  urge  in  reply.  He  had 
fallen  in  with  what  he  thought  Staniford's  own  mind 
in  regard  to  the  course  he  ought  to  take ;  since  he 
had  now  changed  his  mind,  there  seemed  never  to 
have  been  any  reason  for  that  course. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "  it  is  n't  too  late  yet 
to  see  her,  I  dare  say.  Let  us  go  and  find  what 
time  the  trains  leave  for  Venice." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  can  offer  myself  in  the  salle 
tfattente  ?  "  sneered  Staniford.  But  he  went  with 
Dunham  to  the  coffee-room,  where  they  found  the 
Osservatore  Triestino  and  the  time-table  of  the  rail- 
road. The  last  train  left  for  Venice  at  ten,  and  it 
was  now  seven ;  the  Austrian  Lloyd  steamer  for 
Venice  sailed  at  nine. 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  Staniford,  and  pushed  the  pa- 
per away.  He  sat  brooding  over  the  matter  before 
the  table  on  which  the  journals  were  scattered,  while 
Dunham  waited  for  him  to  speak.  At  last  he  said, 
"  I  can't  stand  it ;  I  must  see  her.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  told  her  I  should  come  on  to-morrow 
night  or  not.  If  she  should  be  expecting  me  on 
Monday  morning,  and  I  should  be  delayed  —  Dun- 
ham, will  you  drive  round  with  me  to  the  Austrian 
Lloyd's  wharf  ?  They  may  be  going  by  the  boat, 
and  if  they  are  they  '11  have  left  their  hotel.  We  '11 
try  the  train  later.  I  should  like  to  find  out  if  they 
are  on  board.  I  don't  know  that  I  '11  try  to  speak 
them  ;  very  likely  not." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       237 

"  I  '11  go,  certainly,"  answered  Dunham,  cordially, 

"  I  '11  Lave  some  dinner  first,"  said  Staniford, 
11 1  'm  hungry." 

It  was  quite  dark  when  they  drove  on  to  the  wharf 
at  which  the  boat  for  Venice  lay.  When  thej  ar- 
rived, a  plan  had  occurred  to  Staniford,  through  the 
timidity  which  had  already  succeeded  the  boldness 
of  his  desperation.  "Dunham,"  he  said,  "  I  want 
you  to  go  on  board,  and  see  if  she  's  there.  I  don't 
think  I  could  stand  not  finding  her.  Besides,  if 
she  's  cheerful  and  happy,  perhaps  I  'd  better  not 
see  her.  You  can  come  back  and  report.  Confound 
it,  you  know,  I  should  be  so  conscious  before  that 
infernal  uncle  of  hers.  You  understand  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  Dunham,  eager  to  serve 
Staniford  in  a  case  like  this.  "  I  '11  manage  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Staniford,  beginning  to  doubt  the 
wisdom  of  either  going  aboard,  "  do  it  if  you  think 
best.  I  don't  know  "  — 

"Don't  know  what?"  asked  Dunham,  pausing 
in  the  door  of  the  fiacre. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing  !  I  hope  we  're  not  mak- 
ing fools  of  ourselves." 

"  You  're  morbid,  old  fellow  !  "  said  Dunham, 
gayly.  He  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  and  Stani- 
ford waited,  with  set  teeth,  till  he  came  back.  He 
seemed  a  long  time  gone.  When  he  returned,  he 
stood  holding  fast  to  the  open  fiacre-door,  without 
speaking. 

u  Well  I  "  cried  Staniford,  with  bitter  impatience, 


238       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Well  what  ?  "  Dunham  asked,  in  a  stupid  voioa 

"  Were  they  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  can't  tell." 

"  Can't  tell,  man  ?     Did  you  go  to  see  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.     I  'm  not  sure." 

A  heavy  sense  of  calamity  descended  upon  Stan> 
ford's  heart,  but  patience  came  with  it.  "  What  'a 
the  matter,  Dunham  ?  "  he  asked,  getting  out  trem- 
ulously. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  've  had  a  fall,  some- 
where. Help  me  in." 

Staniford  got  out  and  helped  him  gently  to  the 
seat,  and  then  mounted  beside  him,  giving  the  order 
for  their  return.  "  Where  is  your  hat  ?  "  he  asked, 
finding  that  Dunham  was  bareheaded. 

"  I  don't  know.  It  does  n't  matter.  Am  I  bleed 
ing?" 

"  It 's  so  dark,  I  can't  see." 

"  Put  your  hand  here."  He  carried  Stamford's 
hand  to  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  There 's  no  blood ;  but  you  've  had  an  ugly 
knock  there." 

"  Yes,  that 's  it,"  said  Dunham.  "  I  remembei 
now ;  I  slipped  and  struck  my  head.  He  lapsed 
away  in  a  torpor;  Staniford  could  learn  nothing 
more  from  him. 

The   hurt  was   not  what   Staniford   in   his  first 
anxiety  had  feared,  but  the  doctor  whom  they  called 
at  the  hotel  was  vague  and  guarded  as  to  every 
thing  but  the  time  and  care  which  must  be  given 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  238 

m  any  event.  Staniford  despaired ;  but  there  was 
only  one  thing  to  do.  He  sat  down  beside  his  friend 
to  take  care  of  him. 

His  mind  was  a  turmoil  of  regrets,  of  anxieties, 
jf  apprehensions ;  but  he  had  a  superficial  calmness 
that  enabled  him  to  meet  the  emergencies  of  the 
case.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  Lydia  which  he  somehow 
knew  to  be  rightly  worded,  telling  her  of  the  acci- 
dent. In  terms  which  conveyed  to  her  all  that  he 
felt,  he  said  that  he  should  not  see  her  at  the  time 
he  had  hoped,  but  promised  to  come  to  Venice  as 
Boon  as  he  could  quit  his  friend.  Then,  with  a  deep 
breath,  he  put  that  affair  away  for  the  time,  and 
seemed  to  turn  a  key  upon  it. 

He  called  a  waiter,  and  charged  him  to  have  his 
letter  posted  at  once.  The  man  said  he  would  give 
it  to  the  portier,  who  was  sending  out  some  other 
letters.  He  returned,  ten  minutes  later,  with  a 
number  of  letters  which  he  said  the  portier  had 
found  for  him  at  the  post-office.  Staniford  glanced 
it  them.  It  was  no  time  to  read  them  then,  and  he 
out  them  into  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat. 


XXII 

AT  the  hotel  in  Trieste,  to  which  Lydia  wwit 
with  her  uncle  before  taking  the  train  for  Venice, 
she  found  an  elderly  woman,  who  made  her  a 
courtesy,  and,  saying  something  in  Italian,  startled 
her  by  kissing  her  hand. 

"  It 's  our  Veronica,"  her  uncle  explained  ;  "  she 
wants  to  know  how  she  can  serve  you."  He  gave 
Veronica  the  wraps  and  parcels  he  had  been  carry- 
ing. "  Your  aunt  thought  you  might  need  a  maid." 

"  Oh,  no  I  "  said  Lydia.  "  I  always  help  my- 
self." 

"Ah,  I  dare  say,"  returned  her  uncle.  "You 
American  ladies  are  so  —  up  to  snuff,  as  you  say. 
But  your  aunt  thought  we  'd  better  have  her  with 
us,  in  any  case." 

"  And  she  sent  her  all  the  way  from  Venice  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

44  Well,  I  never  did!"  said  Lydia,  not  lightly 
but  with  something  of  contemptuous  severity. 

Her  uncle  smiled,  as  if  she  had  said  something 
peculiarly  acceptable  to  him,  and  asked,  hesitatingly, 
"  When  you  say  you  never  did,  you  know,  what  ia 
the  full  phrase  ?  " 

Lydia  looked  at  him.  "  Oh  !  I  suppose  I  meant 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       241 


"  Ah,  thanks,  thanks  !  "  said  her  uncle.  He 
*  tall,  slender  man  of  fifty-five  or  sixty,  with  a 
straight  gray  mustache,  and  not  at  all  the  typical 
Englishman,  but  much  more  English-looking  than 
if  he  had  been.  His  bearing  toward  Lydia  blended 
a  fatherly  kindness  and  a  colonial  British  gallantry, 
sach  as  one  sees  in  elderly  Canadian  gentlemen 
attentive  to  quite  young  Canadian  ladies  at  the  pro- 
vincial watering-places.  He  had  an  air  of  advent- 
ure, and  of  uncommon  pleasure  and  no  small  as- 
tonishment in  Lydia's  beauty.  They  were  already 
good  friends  ;  she  was  at  her  ease  with  him  ;  she 
treated  him  as  if  he  were  an  old  gentleman.  At 
the  station,  where  Veronica  got  into  the  same  car- 
riage with  them,  Lydia  found  the  whole  train  very 
queer-looking,  and  he  made  her  describe  its  differ- 
ence from  an  American  train.  He  said,  "  Oh,  yes 
—  yes,  engine,"  when  she  mentioned  the  locomotive, 
and  he  apparently  prized  beyond  its  worth  the  word 
cow-catcher,  a  fixture  which  Lydia  said  was  wanting 
to  the  European  locomotive,  and  left  it  very  stubby. 
He  asked  her  if  she  would  allow  him  to  set  it  down  ; 
%nd  he  entered  the  word  in  his  note-book,  with 
several  other  idioms  she  had  used.  He  said  that  he 
nmuged  himself  in  picking  up  these  things  from  his 
American  friends.  He  wished  to  know  what  she 
called  this  and  that  and  the  other  thing,  and  was 
equally  pleased  whether  her  nomenclature  agreed 
->r  disagreed  with  his  own.  Where  it  differed,  he 
recorded  the  fact,  with  her  leave,  in  his  book.  Hi 

16 


242       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

plied  her  with  a  thousand  questions  about  America, 
with  all  parts  of  which  he  seemed  to  think  her  fa- 
miliar ;  and  she  explained  with  difficulty  how  very 
little  of  it  she  had  seen.  He  begged  her  not  to  let 
him  bore  her,  and  to  excuse  the  curiosity  of  a  Brit- 
isher, "  As  I  suppose  you  'd  call  me,"  he  added, 

Lydia  lifted  her  long-lashed  lids  half-way,  and 
answered,  "  No,  I  should  n't  call  you  so." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  he  returned,  "  the  Americans  always 
disown  it.  But  I  don't  mind  it  at  all,  you  know. 
I  like  those  native  expressions."  Where  they 
stopped  for  refreshments  he  observed  that  one  of 
the  dishes,  which  was  flavored  to  the  national  taste, 
had  a  pretty  tall  smell,  and  seemed  disappointed  by 
Lydia' s  unresponsive  blankness  at  a  word  which  a 
countryman  of  hers — from  Kentucky — had  applied 
to  the  odor  of  the  Venetian  canals.  He  suffered  in 
like  measure  from  a  like  effect  in  her  when  he  la- 
mented the  complications  that  had  kept  him  the 
year  before  from  going  to  America  with  Mrs.  Erwin, 
when  she  revisited  her  old  stamping-ground. 

As  they  rolled  along,  the  warm  night  which  had 
Tallen  after  the  beautiful  day  breathed  through  the 
half-dropped  window  in  a  rich,  soft  air,  as  strange 
ilmost  as  the  flying  landscape  itself.  Mr.  Erwin 
began  to  drowse,  and  at  last  he  fell  asleep ;  but 
Veronica  kept  her  eyes  vigilantly  fixed  upon  Lydia. 
always  smiling  when  she  caught  her  glance,  and  of- 
feiing  service.  At  the  stations,  so  orderly  and  yet 
•o  noisy,  where  the  passengers  were  held  in  the 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  243 

same  meek  subjection  as  at  Trieste,  people  got  in 
and  out  of  the  carriage  ;  and  there  were  officers,  at 
first  in  white  coats,  and  after  they  passed  the  Italian 
frontier  in  blue,  who  stared  at  Lydia.  One  of  the 
Italians,  a  handsome  young  hussar,  spoke  to  her. 
She  could  not  know  what  he  said ;  but  when  he 
crossed  over  to  her  side  of  the  carriage,  she  rose  and 
took  her  place  beside  Veronica,  where  she  remained 
even  after  he  left  the  carriage.  She  was  sensible  of 
growing  drowsy.  Then  she  was  aware  of  nothing 
till  she  woke  up  with  her  head  on  Veronica's  shoul- 
der, against  which  she  had  fallen,  and  on  which  she 
had  been  patiently  supported  for  hours.  "  Ecco 
Venezia!"  cried  the  old  woman,  pointing  to  a  swarm 
of  lights  that  seemed  to  float  upon  an  expanse  of 
sea.  Lydia  did  not  understand ;  she  thought  she 
was  again  on  board  the  Aroostook,  and  that  the 
lights  she  saw  were  the  lights  of  the  shipping  in 
Boston  harbor.  The  illusion  passed,  and  left  her 
heart  sore.  She  issued  from  the  glare  of  the  station 
apon  the  quay  before  it,  bewildered  by  the  ghostly 
beauty  of  the  scene,  but  shivering  in  the  chill  of  the 
dawn,  and  stunned  by  the  clamor  of  the  gondoliers. 
A  tortuous  course  in  the  shadow  of  lofty  walls,  more 
deeply  darkened  from  time  to  time  by  the  arch  of  a 
bridge,  and  again  suddenly  pierced  by  the  brilliance 
.fa  lamp  that  shot  its  red  across  the  gloom,  or 
plunged  it  into  the  black  water,  brought  them  to  a 
palace  gate  at  which  they  stopped,  and  where,  after 
ft  dramatic  ceremony  of  sliding  bolts  and  the  reluo 


244       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

fcant  yielding  of  broad  doors  on  a  level  with  th« 
water,  she  passed  through  a  marble-paved  court  and 
up  a  stately  marble  staircase  to  her  uncle's  apartf 
ment.  "  You  're  at  home,  now,  you  know,"  he  said, 
in  a  kindly  way,  and  took  her  hand,  very  cold  and 
lax,  in  his  for  welcome.  She  could  not  answer,  but 
made  haste  to  follow  Veronica  to  her  room,  whither 
the  old  woman  led  the  way  with  a  candle.  It  was 
a  gloomily  spacious  chamber,  with  sombre  walls  and 
a  lofty  ceiling  with  a  faded  splendor  of  gilded  panel- 
ing. Some  tall,  old-fashioned  mirrors  and  bureaus 
stood  about,  with  rugs  before  them  on  the  stone 
floor  ;  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  bed  curtained 
with  mosquito-netting.  Carved  chairs  were  pushed 
here  and  there  against  the  wall.  Lydia  dropped 
into  one  of  these,  too  strange  and  heavy-hearted  to 
go  to  bed  in  that  vastness  and  darkness,  in  which 
her  candle  seemed  only  to  burn  a  small  round  hole. 
She  longed  forlornly  to  be  back  again  in  her  pretty 
state-room  on  the  Aroostook;  vanishing  glimpses 
and  echoes  of  the  faces  and  voices  grown  so  familiar 
in  the  past  weeks  haunted  her;  the  helpless  tears 
ran  down  her  cheeks. 

There  came  a  tap  at  her  door,  and  her  aunt's 
voice  called,  "  Shall  I  come  in  ?  "  and  before  she 
_,ould  faintly  consent,  her  aunt  pushed  in,  and  caught 
ler  in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her,  and  broke  into  a 
twitter  of  welcome  and  compassion.  "  You  poor 
child  !  Did  you  think  I  was  going  to  let  you  go  to 
ileep  without  seeing  you,  after  you  'd  come  hall 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  245 

round  the  world  to  see  me  ?  "  Her  aunt  was  dark 
and  slight  like  Lydia,  but  not  so  tall ;  she  was  still 
a  very  pretty  woman,  and  she  was  a  very  effective 
presence  now  in  the  long  white  morning-gown  oi 
camel's  hair,  somewhat  fantastically  embroidered  IE 
crimson  silk,  in  which  she  drifted  about  before  Lyd 
ia's  bewildered  eyes.  "  Let  me  see  how  you  look  ! 
Are  you  as  handsome  as  ever  ?  "  She  held  the  can 
die  she  carried  so  as  to  throw  its  light  full  upon  Lyd- 
ia's  face.  "  Yes  !  "  she  sighed.  "  How  pretty  you 
are !  And  at  your  age  you  '11  look  even  better  by 
daylight !  I  had  begun  to  despair  of  you ;  I  thought 
you  could  n't  be  all  I  remembered ;  but  you  are,  — 
you  're  more  !  I  wish  I  had  you  in  Rome,  instead 
of  Venice ;  there  would  be  some  use  in  it.  There  'a 
a  great  deal  of  society  there,  —  English  society  ;  but 
never  mind  :  I  'm  going  to  take  you  to  church  with 
me  to-morrow,  —  the  English  service  ;  there  are  lots 
of  English  in  Venice  now,  on  their  way  south  for 
the  winter.  I  'm  crazy  to  see  what  dresses  you  've 
rrought;  your  aunt  Maria  has  told  me  how  she 
ntted  you  out.  I  've  got  two  letters  from  her  since 
you  started,  and  they're  all  perfectly  well,  dear. 
Your  black  silk  will  do  nicely,  with  bright  ribbons, 
especially ;  I  hope  you  have  n't  got  it  spotted  or 
Anything  on  the  way  over."  She  did  not  allow 
Lydia  to  answer,  nor  seem  to  expect  it.  "You've 
got  your  mother's  eyes,  Lydia,  but  your  father  had 
those  straight  eyebrows :  you  're  very  much  like 
tim.  Poor  Henry  I  And  now  I  'm  having  you  got 


246       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

something  to  eat.  I  'm  not  going  to  risk  coffee  on 
you,  for  fear  it  will  keep  you  awake  ;  though  you 
can  drink  it  in  this  climate  with  comparative  impu- 
nity. Veronica  is  warming  you  a  bowl  of  bouillon, 
and  that 's  all  you  're  to  have  till  breakfast  I  " 

"  Why,  aunt  Josephine,"  said  the  girl,  not  know- 
ing what  bouillon  was,  and  abashed  by  the  sound 
of  it,  "  I  'm  not  the  least  hungry.  You  ought  n't 
to  take  the  trouble  "  — 

"  You  '11  be  hungry  when  you  begin  to  eat.  I  'm 
so  impatient  to  hear  about  your  voyage  I  I  am 
going  to  introduce  you  to  some  very  nice  people, 
here,  —  English  people.  There  are  no  Americana 
living  in  Venice ;  and  the  Americans  in  Europe  are 
BO  queer  !  You  've  no  idea  how  droll  our  customs 
seem  here ;  and  I  much  prefer  the  English.  Your 
poor  uncle  can  never  get  me  to  ask  Americans.  I 
tell  him  I  'm  American  enough,  and  he  '11  have  to 
get  on  without  others.  Of  course,  he  's  perfectly 
delighted  to  get  at  you.  You  Ve  quite  taken  him 
by  storm,  Lydia ;  he  's  in  raptures  about  your  looks. 
It 's  what  I  told  him  before  you  came  ;  but  I  could 
n't  believe  it  till  I  took  a  look  at  you.  I  could  n't 
have  gone  to  sleep  without  it.  Did  Mr.  Erwin  talk 
much  with  you  ?  " 

"  He  was  very  pleasant.  He  talked  —  as  long  ai 
he  was  awake,"  said  Lydia. 

"I  suppose  he  was  trying  to  pick  up  Americanisms 
from  you  ;  he  's  always  doing  it.  I  keep  him  away 
from  Americans  as  much  as  I  can ;  but  he  wil 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       247 

get  at  them  on  the  cars  and  at  the  hotels.  He  's 
always  asking  them  such  ridiculous  que?;ions,  and  1 
know  some  of  them  just  talk  nonsense  to  him." 

Veronica  came  in  with  a  tray,  and  a  bowl  of 
bouillon  on  it ;  and  Mrs.  Erwin  pulled  up  a  light 
table,  and  slid  about,  serving  her,  in  her  cabalistic 
dress,  like  an  Oriental  sorceress  performing  her  in- 
cantations. She  volubly  watched  Lydia  while  she 
ate  her  supper,  and  at  the  end  she  kissed  her  again. 
"  Now  you  feel  better,"  she  said.  "  I  knew  it  would 
cheer  you  up  more  than  any  one  thing.  There  *s 
nothing  like  something  to  eat  when  you  're  home- 
sick. I  found  that  out  when  I  was  off  at  school." 

Lydia  was  hardly  kissed  so  much  at  home  during 
a  year  as  she  had  been  since  meeting  Mrs.  Erwin. 
Her  aunt  Maria  sparely  embraced  her  when  she 
went  and  came  each  week  from  the  Mill  Village ; 
anything  more  than  this  would  have  come  of  insin- 
uerity  between  them ;  but  it  had  been  agreed  that 
Mrs.  Erwin's  demonstrations  of  affection,  of  whict 
the  had  been  lavish  during  her  visit  to  South  Brad- 
field,  might  not  be  so  false.  Lydia  accepted  them 
submissively,  and  she  said,  when  Veronica  returned' 
for  the  tray,  "  I  hate  to  give  you  so  much  trouble. 
And  sending  her  all  the  way  to  Trieste  on  my  ac- 
count, —  I  felt  ashamed.  There  was  n't  a  thing  for 
her  to  do." 

"  Why,  of  course  not !  "  exclaimed  her  aunt. 
u  But  what  did  you  think  I  was  made  of  1  Did  you 
luppose  I  was  going  to  have  you  come  on  a  night- 


48  THE   LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

journey  alone  with  your  uncle  ?  It  would  have 
been  all  over  Venice ;  it  would  have  been  ridiculous. 
I  sent  Veronica  along  for  a  dragon." 

"A  dragon?  I  don't  understand,"  faltered 
Lydia. 

"Well,  you  will,"  said  her  aunt,  putting  the 
palms  of  her  hands  against  Lydia's,  and  so  pressing 
forward  to  kiss  her.  "  We  shall  have  breakfast  ai 
ten.  Go  to  bed!" 


XXIII 

WHEN  Lydia  came  to  breakfast  she  found  h* 
ancle  alone  in  the  room,  reading  Galignani's  Met« 
lenger.  He  put  down  his  paper,  and  came  forward 
to  take  her  hand.  "  You  are  all  right  this  morning, 
I  see,  Miss  Lydia,"  he  said.  "  You  were  quite  up 
a  stump,  last  night,  as  your  countrymen  say." 

At  the  same  time  hands  were  laid  upon  her 
shoulders  from  behind,  and  she  was  pulled  half 
round,  and  pushed  back,  and  held  at  armVlength. 
It  was  Mrs.  Erwin,  who,  entering  after  her,  first 
scanned  her  face,  and  then,  with  one  devouring 
glance,  seized  every  detail  of  her  dress  —  the  black 
silk  which  had  already  made  its  effect — before  she 
kissed  her.  "  You  are  lovely,  my  dear !  I  shall 
spoil  you,  I  know  ;  but  you  're  worth  it !  What 
lashes  you  have,  child  I  And  your  aunt  Maria  made 
and  fitted  that  dress  ?  She  's  a  genius  I " 

"  Miss  Lydia,"  said  Mr.  Erwin,  as  they  sat  down, 
*  is  of  the  fortunate  age  when  one  rises  young  every 
morning."  He  looked  very  fresh  himself  in  his 
clean-shaven  chin,  and  his  striking  evidence  of 
inowy  wristbands  and  shirt-bosom.  u  Later  in  life, 
you  can't  do  that.  She  looks  as  blooming,"  he 
idded,  gallantly,  "  as  a  basket  of  chips,  —  as  you 
lay  in  America." 


250       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"Smiling,"  said  Lydia,  mechanically  correcting 
him. 

"  Ah  I  It  is  ?  Smiling,  —  yes ;  thanks.  It 's  very 
good  either  way  ;  very  characteristic.  It  would  be 
curious  to  know  the  origin  of  a  saying  like  that.  I 
imagine  it  goes  back  to  the  days  of  the  first  settlers, 
It  suggests  a  wood-chopping  period.  Is  it  —  ah  — 
in  general  use  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Of  course  it  is  n't,  Henshaw  I  "  said  his  wife. 

"  You  Ve  been  a  great  while  out  of  the  country, 
my  dear,"  suggested  Mr.  Erwin. 

"  Not  so  long  as  not  to  know  that  your  Ameri- 
canisms are  enough  to  make  one  wish  we  had  held 
our  tongues  ever  since  we  were  discovered,  or  had 
never  been  discovered  at  all.  I  want  to  ask  Lydia 
about  her  voyage.  I  have  n't  heard  a  word  yet. 
Did  your  aunt  Maria  come  down  to  Boston  with 
you?" 

"  No,  grandfather  brought  me." 

44  And  you  had  good  weather  coming  over?  Mr. 
Erwin  told  me  you  were  not  seasick." 

"We  had  one  bad  storm,  before  we  reached 
Gibraltar ;  but  I  was  n't  seasick." 

"  Were  the  other  passengers  ?  " 

44  One  was."  Lydia  reddened  a  little,  and  then 
fcnrned  somewhat  paler  than  at  first. 

"  What  is  it,  Lydia?"  her  aunt  subtly  demanded, 
*  Who  was  the  one  that  was  sick  ?  " 

44  Oh,  a  gentleman,"  answered  Lydia. 

Her  aunt  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  for  whatevei 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       251 

reason  abruptly  left  the  subject.  "Your  silk," 
she  said,  "  will  do  very  well  for  church,  Lydia." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  now  I  "  cried  her  husband,  "  you  're 
not  going  to  make  her  go  to  church  to-day ! " 

"  Yes,  I  am  I  There  will  be  more  people  there 
to-day  than  any  other  time  this  fall.  She  muat 

go-" 

"  But  she 's  tired  to  death,  —  quite  tuckered,  yon 

know." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  rested,  now,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  should  n't 
like  to  miss  going  to  church." 

"Your  silk,"  continued  her  aunt,  "will  be  quite 
the  thing  for  church."  She  looked  hard  at  the 
dress,  as  if  it  were  not  quite  the  thing  for  break- 
fast. Mrs.  Erwin  herself  wore  a  morning-dress  of 
becoming  delicacy,  and  an  airy  French  cap  ;  she 
had  a  light  fall  of  powder  on  her  face.  "What 
kind  of  overthing  have  you  got  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  There  's  a  sack  goes  with  this,"  said  the  girl, 
suggestively. 

"  That 's  nice  I     What  is  your  bonnet  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  any  bonnet.  But  my  best  hat  is 
nice.  I  could  "  — 

"  No  one  goes  to  church  in  a  hat !  You  can't  do 
it.  It 's  simply  impossible." 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  said  her  husband,  "  I  saw  some 
rery  pretty  American  girls  in  hats  at  church,  last 
Sunday." 

*4  Yes,  and  everybody  knew  they  were  Americans 
&y  their  hats !  *  retorted  Mrs.  Erwin, 


252  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

"7  knew  they  were  Americans  by  their  good 
looks,"  said  Mr.  Erwin,  "  and  what  you  call  their 
stylishness." 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  well  enough  for  you  to  talk.  You  V* 
an  Englishman,  and  you  could  wear  a  hat,  if  you 
liked.  It  would  be  set  down  to  character.  But  in 
an  American  it  would  be  set  down  to  greenness.  If 
you  were  an  American,  you  would  have  to  wear  a 
bonnet." 

"  I  'm  glad,  then,  I  'm  not  an  American,"  said  hei 
husband ;  "  I  don't  think  I  should  look  well  in  a 
bonnet." 

"  Oh,  stuff,  Henshaw !  You  know  what  I  mean. 
And  I  'm  not  going  to  have  English  people  think- 
ing we  're  ignorant  of  the  common  decencies  of  life. 
Lydia  shall  not  go  to  church  in  a  hat ;  she  had 
better  never  go.  I  will  lend  her  one  of  my  bonnets. 
Let  me  see,  which  one."  She  gazed  at  Lydia  in 
critical  abstraction.  "I  wear  rather  young  bon- 
nets," she  mused  aloud,  "and  we're  both  rather 
dark.  The  only  difficulty  is  I  'm  so  much  more 
delicate  "  —  She  brooded  upon  the  question  in  a 
silence,  from  which  she  burst  exulting.  "  The  very 
thing  1  I  can  fuss  it  up  in  no  time.  It  won't  take 
two  minutes  to  get  it  ready.  And  you  11  look  just 
killing  in  it."  She  turned  grave  again.  "Hen- 
shaw,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  go  to  church 
this  morning ! " 

u  I  would  do  almost  anything  for  you,  Josephine 
out  really,  you  know,  you  ought  n't  to  ask  that.     I 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       258 

was  there  last  Sunday;  I  can't  go  every  Sunday. 
It 's  bad  enough  in  England ;  a  man  ought  to  have 
some  relief  on  the  Continent." 

"  Well,  well.  I  suppose  I  ought  n't  to  ask  you,'* 
§ighed  his  wife,  —  "  especially  as  you  're  going  with 
us  to-night." 

"  I  '11  go  to-night,  with  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  El 
win.  He  rose  when  his  wife  and  Lydia  left  th<s 
table,  and  opened  the  door  for  them  with  a  certain 
courtesy  he  had ;  it  struck  even  Lydia's  uneducated 
sense  as  something  peculiarly  sweet  and  fine,  and  it 
did  not  overawe  her  own  simplicity,  but  seemed  of 
kind  with  it. 

The  bonnet,  when  put  to  proof,  did  not  turn  out 
tc  be  all  that  it  was  vaunted.  It  looked  a  little 
odd,  from  the  first ;  and  Mrs.  Erwin,  when  she  was 
herself  dressed,  ended  by  taking  it  off,  and  putting 
or  Lydia  the  hat  previously  condemned.  "  You  're 
divine  in  that,"  she  said.  "And  after  all,  you  are 
a  traveler,  and  I  can  say  that  some  of  your  things 
were  spoiled  coming  over,  —  people  always  get 
things  ruined  in  a  sea  voyage,  —  and  they  '11  think 
it  was  your  bonnet." 

"  I  kept  my  things  very  nicely,  aunt  Josephine," 
laid  Lydia  conscientiously.  "  I  don't  believe  any- 
thing was  hurt." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  can't  tell  till  you  've  unpacked  ; 
und  we  're  not  responsible  for  what  people  happen 
fco  think,  you  know.  Wait  1 "  her  aunt  suddenly 
tried.  She  pulled  open  a  drawer,  and  snatched 


254       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

two  ribbons  from  it,  which  she  pinned  to  the  sides 
of  Lydia's  hat,  and  tied  in  a  bow  under  her  chin  • 
she  caught  out  a  lace  veil,  and  drew  that  over  the 
front  of  the  hat,  and  let  it  hang  in  a  loose  knot  be- 
hind. "  Now,"  she  said,  pushing  her  up  to  a  mir- 
ror, that  she  might  see,  "  it 's  a  bonnet ;  and  I 
need  n't  say  anything !  " 

They  went  in  Mrs.  Erwin's  gondola  to  the  pal- 
ace in  which  the  English  service  was  held,  and 
Lydia  was  silent,  as  she  looked  shyly,  almost  fear- 
fully, round  on  the  visionary  splendors  of  Venice. 

Mrs.  Erwin  did  not  like  to  be  still.  "  What  are 
you  thinking  of,  Lydia  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh  !  I  suppose  I  was  thinking  that  the  leaves 
were  beginning  to  turn  in  the  sugar  orchard,"  an- 
swered Lydia  faithfully.  "I  was  thinking  how 
still  the  sun  would  be  in  the  pastures,  there,  this 
morning.  I  suppose  the  stillness  here  put  me  in 
mind  of  it.  One  of  these  bells  has  the  same  tone 
as  our  bell  at  home." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin.  "  Everybody  finds  a 
familiar  bell  in  Venice.  There  are  enough  of  them, 
goodness  knows.  I  don't  see  why  you  call  it  still, 
with  all  this  clashing  and  banging.  I  suppose  this 
*eems  very  odd  to  you,  Lydia,"  she  continued,  indi 
Bating  the  general  Venetian  effect.  "  It 's  an  old 
Btory  to  me,  though.  The  great  beauty  of  Ven- 
ice is  that  you  get  more  for  your  money  here  than 
you  can  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  There  is  n't 
much  society,  however,  and  you  must  n't  expect  to 
be  very  gay." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       25ft 

"  I  have  never  been  gay,"  said  Lydia. 

u  Well,  that  's  no  reason  you  should  n't  be, '  re- 
lumed her  aunt.  "  If  you  were  in  Florence,  or 
Rome,  or  even  Naples,  you  could  have  a  good  time. 
There  1  I  'm  glad  your  uncle  did  n't  hear  me  s&^ 
that!" 

«  What  ?  "  asked  Lydia. 

"  Good  time  ;  that 's  an  Americanism." 

«  Is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He 's  perfectly  delighted  when  he  catches 
me  in  one.  I  try  to  break  myself  of  them,  but  I 
don't  always  know  them  myself.  Sometimes  I  feel 
almost  like  never  talking  at  all.  But  you  can't  do 
that,  you  know." 

"  No,"  assented  Lydia. 

u  And  you  have  to  talk  Americanisms  if  you  're 
an  American.  You  must  n't  think  your  uncle 
is  n't  obliging,  Lydia.  He  is.  I  ought  n't  to  have 
asked  him  to  go  to  church,  —  it  bores  him  so  much. 
I  used  to  feel  terribly  about  it  once,  when  we  were 
first  married.  But  things  have  changed  very  much 
of  late  years,  especially  with  all  this  scientific  talk. 
In  England  it 's  quite  different  from  what  it  used 
^o  be.  Some  of  the  best  people  in  society  are 
skeptics  now,  and  that  makes  it  quite  another 
thing."  Lydia  looked  grave,  but  she  said  nothing, 
%nd  her  aunt  added,  "  I  would  n't  have  asked  him, 
out  I  had  a  little  headache,  myself." 

"  Aunt  Josephine,"  said  Lydia,  "  I  'm  afraid 
fcu're  doing  too  much  for  me.  Why  did  n't  you 
let  me  come  alone  ?  " 


256       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  Come  alone  ?  To  church  !  "  Mrs.  Erwin  ad 
dressed  her  in  a  sort  of  whispered  shriek.  "  It 
would  have  been  perfectly  scandalous." 

"  To  go  to  church  alone  ?  "  demanded  Lydia,  as- 
tounded. 

"  Yes.  A  young  girl  must  n't  go  awywhew 
alone." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  I  '11  explain  to  you,  sometime,  Lydia ;  or  rather, 
you  '11  learn  for  yourself.  In  Italy  it 's  very  differ- 
ent from  what  it  is  in  America."  Mrs.  Erwin  sud- 
denly started  up  and  bowed  with  great  impress- 
iveness,  as  a  gondola  swept  towards  them.  The 
gondoliers  wore  shirts  of  blue  silk,  and  long  crim- 
son sashes.  On  the  cushions  of  the  boat,  beside  a 
hideous  little  man  who  was  sucking  the  top  of  an 
ivory-handled  stick,  reclined  a  beautiful  woman, 
pale,  with  purplish  rings  round  the  large  black  eyes 
with  which,  faintly  smiling,  she  acknowledged  Mrs. 
Erwin 's  salutation,  and  then  stared  at  Lydia. 

"  Oh,  you  may  look,  and  you  may  look,  and  you 
may  look !  "  cried  Mrs.  Erwin,  under  her  breath, 
"  You  've  met  more  than  your  match  at  last !  The 
Countess  Tatocka,"  she  explained  to  Lydia.  "  That 
was  her  palace  we  passed  just  now,  —  the  one  with 
the  iron  balconies.  Did  you  notice  the  gentleman 
with  her  ?  She  always  takes  to  those  monsters. 
He 's  a  Neapolitan  painter,  and  ever  so  talented,  — 
tlever,  that  is.  He 's  dead  in  love  with  her,  they 
my: 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOE.       257 

44  Are  they  engaged  ?  "  asked  Lydia. 

"  Engaged  I  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Erwin,  with  hei 
ihriek  in  dumb  show.  "  Why,  child,  she  's  mar- 
ried I" 

"  To  him  ?  ;'  demanded  the  girl,  with  a  recoil. 

"  No  !     To  her  husband." 

44  To  her  husband  ? "  gasped  Lydia.  "  Anrt 
die  "  — 

44  Why,  she  is  n't  quite  well  seen,  even  in  Ven- 
ice," Mrs.  Erwin  explained.  "  But  she 's  rich,  and 
her  conversazioni  are  perfectly  brilliant.  She's 
very  artistic,  and  she  writes  poetry,  —  Polish  po- 
etry. I  wish  she  could  hear  you  sing,  Lydia !  I 
know  she  '11  be  frantic  to  see  you  again.  But  I 
don't  see  how  it 's  to  be  managed  ;  her  house  is  n't 
one  you  can  take  a  young  girl  to.  And  I  can't  ask 
her  :  your  uncle  detests  her." 

44  Do  you  go  to  her  house  ?  "  Lydia  inquired 
stiffly. 

44  Why,  as  a  foreigner,  J  can  go.  Of  course, 
Lydia,  you  can't  be  as  particular  about  everything 
on  the  Continent  as  you  are  at  home." 

The  former  oratory  of  the  Palazzo  Grinzelli, 
svhich  served  as  the  English  chapel,  was  filled  with 
travelers  of  both  the  English-speaking  nationali- 
ties, as  distinguishable  by  their  dress  as  by  their 
taces.  Lydia's  aunt  affected  the  English  style,  but 
*ome  instinctive  elegance  betrayed  her,  and  every 
Englishwoman  there  knew  and  hated  her  for  an 
American,  though  she  was  a  precisian  in  her  lit 

17 


258       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK 

urgy,  instant  in  all  the  responses  and  genuflexiona 
She  found  opportunity  in  the  course  of  the  lesson  to 
make  Lydia  notice  every  one,  and  she  gave  a  tele- 
grammic  biography  of  each  person  she  knew,  with 
a  criticism  of  the  costume  of  all  the  strangers,  man- 
aging so  skillfully  that  by  the  time  the  sermon  be- 
gan she  was  able  to  yield  the  text  a  statuesquely 
close  attention,  and  might  have  been  carved  in 
marble  where  she  sat  as  a  realistic  conception  of 
Worship. 

The  sermon  came  to  an  end;  the  ritual  pro- 
ceeded ;  the  hymn,  with  the  hemming  and  hawing 
of  respectable  inability,  began,  and  Lydia  lifted  her 
voice  with  the  rest.  Few  of  the  people  were  in 
their  own  church ;  some  turned  and  stared  at  her  ; 
the  bonnets  and  the  back  hair  of  those  who  did  not 
look  were  intent  upon  her;  the  long  red  neck  of 
one  elderly  Englishman,  restrained  by  decorum 
from  turning  his  head  toward  her,  perspired  with 
curiosity.  Mrs.  Erwin  fidgeted,  and  dropped  her 
eyes  from  the  glances  which  fell  to  her  for  ex- 
planation of  Lydia,  and  hurried  away  with  her  as 
soon  as  the  services  ended.  In  the  hall  on  the 
water-floor  of  the  palace,  where  they  were  kept 
waiting  for  their  gondola  a  while,  she  seemed  to 
shrink  even  from  the  small,  surly  greetings  with 
which  people  whose  thoughts  are  on  higher  things 
permit  themselves  to  recognize  fellow-beings  of  their 
acquaintance  in  coming  out  of  church.  But  an  old 
.ady,  who  supported  herself  with  a  cane,  pushed 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       259 

through  the  crowd  to  where  they  stood  aloof,  and, 
without  speaking  to  Mrs.  Erwin,  put  out  her  hand 
to  Lydia  ;  she  had  a  strong,  undaunted,  plain  face, 
in  which  was  expressed  the  habit  of  doing  what  she 
liked.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  how  wonderfully  you 
ling!  Where  did  you  get  that  heavenly  voice? 

ou  are  an  American ;  I  see  that  by  your  beauty  r 
You  are  Mrs.  Erwin's  niece,  I  suppose,  whom  she 
expected.  Will  you  come  and  sing  to  me  ?  You 
must  bring  her,  Mrs.  Erwin." 

She  hobbled  away  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, and  Lydia  and  her  aunt  got  into  their  gon- 
dola. "0A  /  How  glad  I  am  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Erwin, 
in  a  joyfnl  flutter.  "  She  's  the  very  tip-top  of  the 
English  here;  she  has  a  whole  palace,  and  you 
meet  the  very  best  people  at  her  house.  I  was 
afraid  when  you  were  singing,  Lydia,  that  they 
would  think  your  voice  was  too  good  to  be  good 
form,  —  that  's  an  expression  you  must  get ;  it 
means  everything,  —  it  sounded  almost  professional. 
I  wanted  to  nudge  you  to  sing  a  little  lower, 
or  different,  or  something;  but  I  could  n't,  every- 
body was  looking  so.  No  matter.  It's  all  right 
now.  If  she  liked  it,  nobody  else  will  dare  to 
breathe.  You  can  see  that  she  has  taken  a  fancy 
to  you ;  she  '11  make  a  great  pet  of  you." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  bluntly. 

"  Lady  Fenleigh.  Such  a  character,  —  so  ec- 
centric J  But  really,  I  suppose,  very  hard  to  livi 
with.  It  must  have  been  quite  a  release  for  poor 
6ir  Feiileigh  Fenleigh.' 


THE   LADY   OF   THE   AROOSTOOK. 

"She  didn't  seem  in  mourning,"  said  Lydist 
44  Has  he  been  dead  long  ?  " 

"Why,  he  isn't  dead  at  all!  He  is  what  you 
call  a  grass-widower.  The  best  soul  in  the  world, 
everybody  says,  and  very,  very  fond  of  her ;  but 
ghe  could  n't  stand  it ;  he  was  too  good,  don't  you 
understand  ?  They  've  lived  apart  a  great  many 
years.  She  's  lived  a  great  deal  in  Asia  Minor,  — 
somewhere.  She  likes  Venice ;  but  of  course  there 's 
no  telling  how  long  she  may  stay.  She  has  another 
house  in  Florence,  all  ready  to  go  and  be  lived  in  at 
a  day's  notice.  I  wish  I  had  presented  you  I  It 
did  go  through  my  head  ;  but  it  did  n't  seem  as  if 
I  could  get  the  Blood  out.  It  is  a  fearful  name, 
Lydia ;  I  always  felt  it  so  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  I 
was  so  glad  to  marry  out  of  it ;  and  it  sounds  so 
terribly  American.  I  think  you  must  take  youl 
mother's  name,  my  dear.  Latham  is  rather  flattish, 
but  it 's  worlds  better  than  Blood." 

"  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  father's  name,"  said 
jydia. 

"  But  you  '11  have  to  change  it  some  day,  at  any 
rate,  —  when  you  get  married." 

Lydia  turned  away.  "  I  will  be  called  Blood  till 
&en.  If  Lady  Fenleigh  "  — 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  promptly  interrupted  her  aunt, 
'  I  know  that  sort  of  independence.  I  used  to 
have  whole  Declarations  of  it.  But  you  '11  get  ovei 
that,  in  Europe.  There  was  a  time  —  just  aftel 
the  war  —  when  the  English  quite  liked  our  stick' 


THE  LADY    OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  261 

ttig  up  for  ourselves ;  but  that 's  past  now.  They 
like  us  to  be  outlandish,  but  they  don't  like  as  to 
be  independent.  How  did  you  like  the  sermon  ? 
Did  n't  you  think  we  had  a  nicely-dressed  congre* 
gation?" 

"  I  thought  the  sermon  was  very  short,"  answered 
Lydia. 

"  Well,  that 's  the  English  way,  and  I  like  it 
If  you  get  in  all  the  service,  you  must  make  the 
sermon  short." 

Lydia  did  not  say  anything  for  a  little  while, 
Then  she  asked,  "Is  the  service  the  same  at  th« 
evening  meeting  ?  " 

"  Evening  meeting  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Erwin. 

"  Yes,  —  the  church  to-night." 

"Why,  child,  there  isn't  any  church  to-night! 
What  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  uncle  —  did  n't  Mr.  Erwin  say  he  would 
go  with  us  to-night  ?  " 

Mrs.  Erwin  seemed  about  to  laugh,  and  then  she 
looked  embarrassed.  "  Why,  Lydia,"  she  cried  at 
last,  "  he  did  n't  mean  church ;  he  meant  —  opera  ! " 

"  Opera !  Sunday  night !  Aunt  Josephine,  do 
you  go  to  the  theatre  on  Sabbath  evening  ?  " 

There  was  something  appalling  in  the  girl's  stern 
foice.  Mrs.  Erwin  gathered  herself  tremulously 
together  for  defense.  "  Why,  of  course,  Lydia,  I 
lon't  approve  of  it,  though  I  never  was  Orthodox, 
JTour  uncle  likes  to  go;  and  if  everybody's  there 
that  you  want  to  see,  and  they  will  give  the  best 
•peraa  Sunday  night,  what  are  you  to  do  ?  " 


262  THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Lydia  said  nothing,  but  a  hard  look  came  intc 
ber  face,  and  she  shut  her  lips  tight. 

"  Now  you  see,  Lydia,"  resumed  her  aunt,  with 
&D  air  of  deductive  reasoning  from  the  premises, 
"  the  advantage  of  having  a  bonnet  on,  even  if  it  'a 
only  a  make-believe.  I  don't  believe  a  soul  knew 
it.  All  those  Americans  had  hats.  You  were  the 
only  American  girl  there  with  a  bonnet.  I  'm  sure 
that  it  had  more  than  half  to  do  with  Lady  Fen- 
leigh's  speaking  to  you.  It  showed  that  you  had 
been  well  brought  up." 

"  But  I  never  wore  a  bonnet  to  church  at  home," 
said  Lydia. 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  if  they  thought 
you  did.  And  Lydia,"  she  continued,  "  I  was  think- 
ing while  you  were  singing  there  that  I  would  n't 
say  anything  at  once  about  your  coming  over  to 
cultivate  your  voice.  That 's  got  to  be  such  an 
American  thing,  now.  I  '11  let  it  out  little  by  little, 
—  and  after  Lady  Fenleigh  's  quite  taken  you  under 
her  wing.  Perhaps  we  may  go  to  Milan  with  you, 
or  to  Naples,  —  there  's  a  conservatory  there,  too  ; 
and  we  can  pull  up  stakes  as  easily  as  not.  Well !  " 
Bald  Mrs.  Erwin,  interrupting  herself,  "  I  'm  glad 
Henshaw  was  n't  by  to  hear  that  speech.  He  'd 
have  had  it  down  among  his  Americanisms  in 
Btantly.  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  an  American- 
ism ;  but  he  puts  down  all  the  outlandish  sayings 
ae  gets  hold  of  to  Americans  ;  he  has  no  end  ol 
English  slang  in  his  book.  Everything  has  opened 


THE   LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

leautifully,  Lydia,  and  I  intend  you  shall  have  the 
best  time ! "  She  looked  fondly  at  her  brother's 
child.  "  You  've  no  idea  how  much  you  remind  me 
of  your  poor  father.  You  have  his  looks  exactly. 
I  always  thought  he  would  come  out  to  Europe  be- 
fore he  died.  We  used  to  be  so  proud  of  his  looks 
at  home  !  I  can  remember  that,  though  I  was  the 
youngest,  and  he  was  ten  years  older  than  I.  But 
I  always  did  worship  beauty.  A  perfect  Greek, 
Mr.  Rose-Black  calls  me  :  you  '11  see  him  ;  he  's  an 
English  painter  staying  here ;  he  comes  a  great 
deal." 

"  Mrs.  Erwin,  Mrs.  Erwin  I  "  called  a  lady's  voice 
from  a  gondola  behind  them.  The  accent  was 
perfectly  English,  but  the  voice  entirely  Italian. 
"  Where  are  you  running  to  ?  " 

"  Why,  Miss  Landini !  "  retorted  Mrs,  Erwin, 
looking  back  over  her  shoulder.  "  Is  that  you  ? 
Where  in  the  world  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  've  been  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  old  English 
teacher.  He's  awfully  ill  with  rheumatism;  but 
%wfully  !  He  can't  turn  in  bed." 

"  Why,  poor  man  !  This  is  my  niece  whom  I 
u>ld  you  I  was  expecting !  Arrived  last  night ! 
We  've  been  to  church  I  "  Mrs.  Erwin  exclaimed 
each  of  the  facts. 

The  Italian  girl  stretched  her  hand  across  the 
gunwales  of  the  boats,  which  their  respective  gon- 
loliers  had  brought  skillfully  side  by  side,  and  took 
Lydia's  hand.  "  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear 


264       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

But  my  God,  how  beautiful  you  Americans  are  < 
But  you  don't  look  American,  you  know  ;  you  look 
Spanish !  I  shall  come  a  great  deal  to  see  you,  and 
practice  my  English." 

"  Come  home  with  us  now,  Miss  Landini,  and 
have  lunch,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin. 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  can't.  My  aunt  will  be  raising 
the  devil  if  I  'm  not  there  to  drink  coffee  with  her  ; 
and  I  've  been  a  great  while  away  now.  Till  to- 
morrow I  "  Miss  Landini's  gondolier  pushed  hia 
boat  away,  and  rowed  it  up  a  narrow  canal  on  the 
right. 

"I  suppose,"  Mrs.  Erwin  explained,  "that  she  'a 
really  her  mother,  —  everybody  says  so ;  but  she 
always  calls  her  aunt.  Dear  knows  who  her  father 
was.  But  she  's  a  very  bright  girl,  Lydia,  and 
you  '11  like  her.  Don't  you  think  she  speaks  Eng- 
lish wonderfully  for  a  person  who 's  never  been  out 
of  Venice?" 

"  Why  does  she  swear  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  stonily. 

"  Swear  f  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean.  That 's 
the  funniest  thing  about  Miss  Landini.  Your  uncle 
lays  it 's  a  shame  to  correct  her ;  but  I  do,  when- 
over  I  think  of  it.  Why,  you  know,  such  words  aa 
God  and  devil  don't  sound  at  all  wicked  in  Italian, 
and  ladies  use  them  quite  commonly.  She  under- 
stands that  it  is  n't  good  form  to  do  so  in  English, 
but  when  she  gets  excited  she  forgets.  Well,  you 
tan't  say  but  what  she  was  impressed,  Lydia  !  " 

After  lunch,  various  people  came  to  call   apoa 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       265 

Mrs.  Erwin.  Several  of  them  were  Italians  who 
were  learning  English,  and  they  seemed  to  think  it 
inoffensive  to  say  that  they  were  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  practice  the  language  with  Lydia.  They 
talked  local  gossip  with  her  aunt,  and  they  spoke 
of  an  approaching  visit  to  Venice  from  the  king ; 
it  seemed  to  Lydia  that  the  king's  character  was 
not  good. 

Mr.  Rose-Black,  the  English  artist,  came.  He 
gave  himself  the  effect  of  being  in  Mrs.  Erwin's 
confidence,  apparently  without  her  authority,  and 
he  bestowed  a  share  of  this  intimacy  upon  Lydia. 
He  had  the  manner  of  a  man  who  had  been  taken 
up  by  people  above  him,  and  the  impudence  of  a 
talent  which  had  not  justified  the  expectations 
formed  of  it.  He  softly  reproached  Mrs.  Erwin  for 
running  away  after  service  before  he  could  speak  to 
her,  and  told  her  how  much  everybody  had  been 
enchanted  by  her  niece's  singing.  "  At  least,  they 
laid  it  was  your  niece." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Rose-Black,  let  me  introduce  you 
to  Miss  "  —  Lydia  looked  hard,  even  to  threaten- 
ing, at  her  aunt,  and  Mrs.  Erwin  added,  "  Blood." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Rose-Black,  with 
his  picked-up  politeness,  "  I  did  n't  get  the  name/' 

"  Blood,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin,  more  distinctly. 

"  Aoh  I  "  said  Mr.  Rose-Black,  in  a  cast-off  ac- 
cent of  jaded  indifferent! sm,  just  touched  with  dis- 
pleasure, "  Yes,"  he  added,  dreamily,  to  Lydia, 
''it  was  divine,  you  know.  You  might  say  it 


266       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

needed  training;  but  it  had  the  naive  sweetnesi 
we  associate  with  your  countrywomen.  They're 
greatly  admired  in  England  now,  you  know,  for 
their  beauty.  Oh,  I  assure  you,  it's  quite  the 
thing  to  admire  American  ladies.  I  want  to  ar« 
range  a  little  lunch  at  my  studio  for  Mrs.  Ervrin 
and  yourself ;  and  I  want  you  to  abet  me  in  it< 
Miss  Blood."  Lydia  stared  at  him,  but  he  was  not 
troubled.  "  I  'm  going  to  ask  to  sketch  you.  Re- 
ally, you  know,  there 's  a  poise  —  something  bird- 
like  —  a  sort  of  repose  in  movement  "  —  He  sat 
in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  with  his  head  fallen  back, 
and  abandoned  to  an  absent  enjoyment  of  Lydia'a 
pictorial  capabilities.  He  was  very  red ;  his  full 
beard,  which  started  as  straw  color,  changed  to  red 
when  it  got  a  little  way  from  his  face.  He  wore  a 
suit  of  rough  blue,  the  coat  buttoned  tightly  about 
him,  and  he  pulled  a  glove  through  his  hand  as  he 
talked.  He  was  scarcely  roused  from  his  reverie 
by  the  entrance  of  an  Italian  officer,  with  his  hug- 
Bar  jacket  hanging  upon  one  shoulder,  and  his 
sword  caught  up  in  his  left  hand.  He  ran  swiftly 
*o  Mrs.  Erwin,  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Ah,  my  compliments !  I  come  practice  my 
English  with  you  a  little.  Is  it  well  said,  a  little, 
or  do  you  say  a  small  ?  " 

"  A  little,  cavaliere,"  answered  Mrs.  Erwin,  ami 
ably.     "  But   you   must   say  a  good  deal,  in   thil 


"  Yes,  yes,  —  good  deal.     For  what  ? 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       267 

"Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  niece,  Colonel 
Pazzelli,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin. 

"  Ah  !  Too  much  honor,  too  much  honor ! " 
murmured  the  cavaliere.  He  brought  his  heels  to- 
gether with  a  click,  and  drooped  towards  Lydia  till 
his  head  was  on  a  level  with  his  hips.  Recovering 
himself,  he  caught  up  his  eye-glasses,  and  bent  then 
on  Lydia.  "  Very  please,  very  honored,  much  "  — 
He  stopped,  and  looked  confused,  and  Lydia  turned 
pale  and  red. 

"  Now,  won't  you  play  that  pretty  barcarole  you 
played  the  other  night  at  Lady  Fenleigh's  ?  "  en- 
treated Mrs.  Erwin. 

Colonel  Pazzelli  wrenched  himself  from  the  fasci- 
nation of  Lydia's  presence,  and  lavished  upon  Mrs. 
Erwin  the  hoarded  English  of  a  week.  "  Yes, 
yes ;  very  nice,  very  good.  With  much  pleasure. 
I  thank  you.  Yes,  I  play."  He  was  one  of  those 
natives  who  in  all  the  great  Italian  cities  haunt 
English-speaking  societies;  they  try  to  drink  tea 
without  grimacing,  and  sing  for  the  ladies  of  our 
race,  who  innocently  pet  them,  finding  them  so 
very  like  other  women  in  their  lady-like  sweet- 
ness and  softness  ;  it  is  said  they  boast  among  their 
^wn  countrymen  of  their  triumphs.  The  cavaliere 
unbuckled  his  sword,  and  laying  it  across  a  chair 
kat  down  at  the  piano.  He  played  not  one  but 
many  barcaroles,  and  seemed  loath  to  leave  the  in- 
itrument. 

41  Now,  Lydia,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin,  fondly,  "  won't 
you  sing  us  something  ?  " 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

"  Do .  "  called  Mr.  Rose-Black  from  the  sofa* 
with  the  intonation  of  a  spoiled  first-cousin,  or  half- 
brother. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  singing  to-day,"  answered 
Lydia,  immovably.  Mrs.  Erwin  was  about  to  urge 
her  further,  but  other  people  came  in,  —  some  Jew- 
ish ladies,  and  then  a  Russian,  whom  Lydia  took  at 
first  for  an  American.  They  all  came  and  went, 
but  Mr.  Rose-Black  remained  in  his  corner  of  the 
sofa,  and  never  took  his  eyes  from  Lydia's  face. 
At  last  he  went,  and  then  Mr.  Erwin  looked  in. 

"  Is  that  beast  gone  ?  "  he  asked.     "  I  shall  be 
obliged   to   show   him   the   door,   yet,    Josephine. 
You  ought  to  snub  him.     He 's  worse  than  his  pict- 
ures.    Well,  you  've  had  a  whole  raft  of  folks  to 
day,  —  as  your  countrymen  say." 

"  Yes,  thank  Heaven,"  cried  Mrs.  Erwin,  "  and 
they  're  all  gone.  I  don't  want  Lydia  to  think 
that  I  let  everybody  come  to  see  me  on  Sunday. 
Thursday  is  my  day,  Lydia,  but  a  few  privileged 
friends  understand  that  they  can  drop  in  Sunday 
afternoon."  She  gave  Lydia  a  sketch  of  the  life 
and  character  of  each  of  these  friends.  "  And 
now  I  must  tell  you  that  your  manner  is  very  good, 
Lydia.  That  reserved  way  of  yours  is  quite  the 
thing  for  a  young  girl  in  Europe  :  I  suppose  it 's  a 
gift ;  I  never  could  get  it,  even  when  I  was  a  girl. 
But  you  must  n't  show  any  hauteur,  even  when  you 
dislike  people,  and  you  refused  to  sing  with  rather 
l»o  much  aplomb.  I  don't  suppose  it  was  noticed. 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  269 

though,  —  those  ladies  coming  in  at  the  same  time. 
Really,  I  thought  Mr.  Rose-Black  and  Colonel 
Pazzelli  were  trying  to  outstare  each  other !  It 
was  certainly  amusing.  I  never  saw  such  an  evi- 
dent case,  Lydia !  The  poor  cavaliere  looked  as  if 
he  had  seen  you  somewhere  before  in  a  dream,  and 
was  struggling  to  make  it  all  out." 

Lydia  remained  impassive.  Presently  she  said 
§he  would  go  to  her  room,  and  write  home  before 
dinner.  When  she  went  out  Mrs.  Erwin  fetched  a 
deep  sigh,  and  threw  herself  upon  her  husband's 
sympathy. 

"  She  's  terribly  unresponsive,"  she  began.  "  I 
supposed  she  'd  be  in  raptures  with  the  place,  at 
least,  but  you  would  n't  know  there  was  anything 
at  all  remarkable  in  Venice  from  anything  she  'a 
said.  We  have  met  ever  so  many  interesting 
people  to-day,  —  the  Countess  Tatocka,  and  Lady 
Fenleigh,  and  Miss  Landini,  and  everybody,  but  I 
don't  really  think  she 's  said  a  word  about  a  soul 
She  's  too  queer  for  anything." 

"  I  dare  say  she  has  n't  the  experience  to  be 
astonished  from,"  suggested  Mr.  Erwin  easily. 
4  She 's  here  as  if  she  'd  been  dropped  down  from 
her  village." 

"  Yes,  that 's  true,"  considered  his  wife.  "  But 
it 's  hard,  with  Lydia's  air  and  style  and  self -posses- 
lion,  to  realize  that  she  is  merely  a  village  girl." 

"  She  may  be  much  more  impressed  than  she 
Chooses  to  show,"  Mr.  Erwin  continued.  "  T  re- 


270       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK 

member  a  very  curious  essay  by  a  French  writei 
about  your  countrymen :  he  contended  that  they 
were  characterized  by  a  savage  stoicism  through 
their  contact  with  the  Indians." 

"  Nonsense,  Henshaw  !  There  has  n't  been  an 
Indian  near  South  Bradfield  for  two  hundred  years, 
A.nd  besides  that,  am  /stoical  ? " 

"  I  'm  bound  to  say,"  replied  her  husband,  "  thai 
BO  far  as  you  go,  you  're  a  complete  refutation  of  the 
theory." 

"  I  hate  to  see  a  young  girl  so  close,"  fretted 
Mrs.  Erwin.  "  But  perhaps,"  she  added,  more 
cheerfully,  "  she  '11  be  the  easier  managed,  being  so 
passive.  She  doesn't  seem  at  all  willful, — that's 
one  comfort." 

She  went  to  Lydia's  room  just  before  dinner,  and 
found  the  girl  with  her  head  fallen  on  her  arms 
upon  the  table,  where  she  had  been  writing.  She 
looked  up,  and  faced  her  aunt  with  swollen  eyes. 

"  Why,  poor  thing  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Erwin.  "  What 
is  it,  dear  ?  What  is  it,  Lydia  ?  "  she  asked,  ten- 
derly, and  she  pulled  Lydia's  face  down  upon  her 
neck. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  suppose  I  was  a 
little  homesick ;  writing  home  made  me." 

She  somewhat  coldly  suffered  Mrs.  Erwin  to  kiss 
her  and  smooth  her  hair,  while  she  began  to  talk 
with  her  of  her  grandfather  and  her  aunt  at  home. 
'  But  this  is  going  to  be  home  to  you  now,"  said 
Mm  Erwin,  "  and  I  'm  not  going  to  let  you  be  siok 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       271 

for  any  other.  I  want  you  to  treat  me  just  like  a 
mother,  or  an  older  sister.  Perhaps  I  shan't  be  the 
wisest  mother  to  you  in  the  world,  but  I  mean  to 
be  one  of  the  best.  Come,  now,  bathe  your  eyes> 
my  dear,  and  let 's  go  to  dinner.  I  don't  like  to 
keep  your  uncle  waiting."  She  did  not  go  at  once, 
but  showed  Lydia  the  appointments  of  the  room, 
and  lightly  indicated  what  she  had  caused  to  be 
done,  and  what  she  had  done  with  her  own  hands, 
to  make  the  place  pretty  for  her.  "  And  new  shall 
I  take  your  letter,  and  have  your  uncle  post  it  this 
evening  ?  "  She  picked  up  the  letter  from  the  table. 
"  Had  n't  you  any  wax  to  seal  it  ?  You  know 
they  don't  generally  mucilage  their  envelopes  in  Eu- 
rope." 

Lydia  blushed.  "  I  left  it  open  for  you  to  read. 
I  thought  you  ought  to  know  what  I  wrote." 

Mrs.  Erwin  dropped  her  hands  in  front  of  her, 
with  the  open  letter  stretched  between  them,  and 
looked  at  her  niece  in  rapture.  "  Lydia,"  she 
cried,  "  one  would  suppose  you  had  lived  all  your 
days  in  Europe  !  Showing  me  your  letter,  this 
way,  —  why,  it 's  quite  like  a  Continental  girl." 

"  I  thought  it  was  no  more  than  right  you  should 
lee  what  I  was  writing  home,"  said  Lydia,  unre- 
Bponsively. 

"  Well,  no  matter,  even  if  it  was  right,"  replied 
Mrs.  Erwin.  "  It  comes  to  the  same  thing.  And 
aow,  as  you've  been  quite  a  European  daughter, 
I  'm  going  to  be  a  real  American  mother."  She 


272       THE  LADY  OF  THK  AROOSTOuK. 

took  up  the  wax,  and  sealed  Lydia's  letter  without 
looking  into  it.  "  There !  "  she  said,  triumphantly. 

She  was  very  good  to  Lydia  all  through  dinner, 
and  made  her  talk  of  the  simple  life  at  home,  ana 
the  village  characters  whom  she  remembered  from 
hnr  last  summer's  visit.  That  amused  Mr.  Erwin, 
who  several  times,  when  his  wife  was  turning  the 
talk  upon  Lydia's  voyage  over,  intervened  with 
Borne  new  question  about  the  life  of  the  queer  little 
Yankee  hill-town.  He  said  she  must  tell  Lady 
Fenleigh  about  it,  —  she  was  fond  of  picking  up 
those  curios ;  it  would  make  any  one's  social  fortune 
who  could  explain  such  a  place  intelligibly  in  Lon- 
don ;  when  they  got  to  having  typical  villages  of  the 
different  civilizations  at  the  international  exposi- 
tions, —  as  no  doubt  they  would,  —  somebody  must 
really  send  South  Bradfield  over.  He  pleased  him- 
self vastly  with  this  fancy,  till  Mrs.  Erwin,  who 
had  been  eying  Lydia  critically  from  time  to  time, 
as  if  making  note  of  her  features  and  complexion, 
said  she  had  a  white  cloak,  and  that  in  Venice, 
where  one  need  not  dress  a  great  deal  for  the  opera, 
Lydia  could  wear  it  that  night. 

Lydia  looked  up  in  astonishment,  but  she  sat 
passive  during  her  aunt's  discussion  of  her  plans. 
When  they  rose  from  table,  she  said,  at  her  stiffest 
And  coldest,  "  Aunt  Josephine,  I  want  you  to  ex- 
cuse me  from  going  with  you  to-night.  I  don't  feel 
like  going." 

"  Not  feel  like  going ! "  exclaimed  her  aunt  in 
tiamay.  "  Why,  your  uncle  has  taken  a  box  I  " 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       273 

Lydia  opposed  nothing  to  this  argument.  She 
>uly  said,  "  I  would  rather  not  go." 

"  Oh,  but  you  will,  dear,"  coaxed  her  aunt. 
!<  You.  would  enjoy  it  so  much." 

"  I  thought  you  understood  from  what  I  said  to* 
day,"  replied  Lydia,  "  that  I  could  not  go." 

"  Why,  no,  I  did  n't !  I  knew  you  objected ;  but 
if  I  thought  it  was  proper  for  you  to  go  "  — 

44 1  should  not  go  at  home,"  said  Lydia,  in  the 
same  immovable  fashion. 

"  Of  course  not.  Every  place  has  its  customs,  and 
in  Venice  it  has  always  been  the  custom  to  go  to 
the  opera  on  Sunday  night."  This  fact  had  no  visi- 
ble weight  with  Lydia,  and  after  a  pause  her  aunt 
added,  "  Did  n't  Paul  himself  say  to  do  in  Rome  as 
the  Romans  do  ?  " 

"  No,  aunt  Josephine,"  cried  Lydia,  indignantly, 
"hedidnrf/" 

Mrs.  Erwin  turned  to  her  husband  with  a  face  of 
appeal,  and  he  answered,  "  Really,  my  dear,  I 
think  you  're  mistaken.  I  always  had  the  impres- 
sion that  the  saying  was  —  an  Americanism  of  some 
sort." 

"  But  it  does  n't  matter,"  interposed  Lydia  de- 
sisively.  "  I  could  n't  go,  if  I  did  n't  think  it  waa 
right,  whoever  said  it." 

"  Oh,  well,"  began  Mrs.  Erwin,  "if  you  would 
a't  mind  what  Paul  said  "  —  She  suddenly  checked 
aerself,  and  after  a  little  silence  she  resumed, 
tindly,  "  I  won't  try  to  force  you,  Lydia,  I  did  u't 

18 


274       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

realize  what  a  very  short  time  it  is  since  you  left 
home,  and  how  you  still  have  all  those  ideas.  I 
wouldn't  distress  you  about  them  for  the  world, 
my  dear.  I  want  you  to  feel  at  home  with  me,  and 
I  '11  make  it  as  like  home  for  you  as  I  can  in  every- 
thing. Henshaw,  I  think  you  must  go  alone,  thia 
evening.  I  will  stay  with  Lydia." 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  I  could  n't  let  you ;  I  can't  let 
you  I  I  shall  not  know  what  to  do  if  I  keep  you  at 
home.  Oh,  don't  leave  it  that  way,  please !  I  shall 
feel  so  badly  about  it  "  — 

"  Why,  we  can  both  stay,"  suggested  Mr.  Erwin, 
kindly. 

Lydia's  lips  trembled  and  her  eyes  glistened,  and 
Mrs.  Erwin  said,  "  I  '11  go  with  you,  Henshaw.  I  '11 
be  ready  in  half  an  hour.  I  won't  dress  much." 
She  added  thia  as  if  not  to  dress  a  great  deal  at  the 
opera  Sunday  night  might  somehow  be  accepted  M 
MI  observance  of  the  Sabbath. 


XXIV 

THE  next  morning  Veronica  brought  Lydia  a 
litUe  scrawl  from  her  aunt,  bidding  the  girl  come 
and  breakfast  with  her  in  her  room  at  nine. 

"  Well,  rny  dear,"  her  aunt  called  to  her  from 
her  pillow,  when  she  appeared,  "  you  find  me  flat 
enough,  this  morning.  If  there  was  anything  wrong 
about  going  to  the  opera  last  night,  I  was  properly 
punished  for  it.  Such  wretched  stuff  as  I  never 
heard  !  And  instead  of  the  new  ballet  that  they 
promised,  they  gave  an  old  thing  that  I  had  seen  till 
I  was  sick  of  it.  You  did  n't  miss  mucji,  I  can  toll 
you.  How  fresh  and  bright  you  do  look,  Lydia !  " 
she  sighed.  "  Did  you  sleep  well  ?  Were  you 
lonesome  while  we  were  gone  ?  Veronica  says  you 
were  reading  the  whole  evening.  Are  you  fond  of 
reading?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  am,  very,"  said  Lydia.  "  It  was 
a  book  that  I  began  on  the  ship.  It 's  a  novel." 
She  hesitated.  "  I  was  n't  reading  it ;  I  was  just 
ooking  at  it." 

"  What  a  queer  child  you  are !  I  suppose  you 
were  dying  to  read  it,  and  would  n't  because  it  was 
Sunday.  Well !  "  Mrs.  Erwin  put  her  hand  unde> 
her  pillow,  and  pulled  out  a  gossamer  handkerchief, 
irith  which  she  delicately  touched  her  complexion 


276       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

here  and  there,  and  repaired  with  an  instinctive 
rearrangement  of  powder  the  envious  ravages  of  a 
slight  rash  about  her  nose.  "  I  respect  your  high 
principles  beyond  anything,  Lydia,  and  if  they  can 
only  be  turned  in  the  right  direction  they  will  never 
be  any  disadvantage  to  you."  Veronica  came  in 
with  the  breakfast  on  a  tray,  and  Mrs.  Erwin  added 
•*  Now,  pull  up  that  little  table,  and  bring  youi 
chair,  my  dear,  and  let  us  take  it  easy.  I  like  to 
talk  while  I  'm  breakfasting.  Will  you  pour  out  my 
chocolate  ?  That 's  it,  in  the  ugly  little  pot  with 
the  wooden  handle ;  the  copper  one  's  for  you,  with 
coffee  in  it.  I  never  could  get  that  repose  which 
seems  to  come  perfectly  natural  to  you.  I  was 
always  inclined  to  be  a  little  rowdy,  my  dear,  and 
I  've  had  to  fight  hard  against  it,  without  any  help 
from  either  of  my  husbands;  men  like  it;  they 
think  it 's  funny.  When  I  was  first  married,  I  was 
very  young,  and  so  was  he;  it  was  a  real  love 
match ;  and  my  husband  was  very  well  off,  and 
when  I  began  to  be  delicate,  nothing  would  do  but 
he  must  come  to  Europe  with  me.  How  little  I 
ever  expected  to  outlive  him  !  " 

44  You  don't  look  very  sick  now,"  began  Lydia. 

*•  111,''  said  her  aunt.  "  You  must  say  ill.  Sick 
Is  an  Americanism." 

44  It 's  in  the  Bible,"  said  Lydia,  gravely. 

44  Oh,  there  are  a  great  many  words  in  the  Bibl* 
you  can't  use,"  returned  her  aunt.  "  No,  I  don't 
ook  ill  now,  and  I  'm  worlds  better.  But  1 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       277 

could  n't  live  a  year  in  any  other  climate,  I  suppose, 
You  seem  to  take  after  your  mother's  side.  Well, 
as  I  was  saying,  the  European  ways  didn't  come 
natural  to  me,  at  all.  I  used  to  have  a  great  deal 
of  gayety  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  I  liked  beaux  and 
attentions ;  and  I  had  very  free  ways.  I  could  n't 
get  their  stiffness  here  for  years  and  years,  and  all 
through  my  widowhood  it  was  one  wretched  failure 
with  me.  Do  what  I  would,  I  was  always  violat- 
ing the  most  essential  rules,  and  the  worst  of  it  waa 
that  it  only  seemed  to  make  me  the  more  popular. 
I  do  believe  it  was  nothing  but  my  rowdiness  that 
attracted  Mr.  Erwin  ;  but  I  determined  when  I  had 
got  an  Englishman  I  would  make  one  bold  strike 
for  the  proprieties,  and  have  them,  or  die  in  the 
attempt.  I  determined  that  no  Englishwoman  I 
ever  saw  should  outdo  me  in  strict  conformity  to 
all  the  usages  of  European  society.  So  I  cut  my- 
self off  from  all  the  Americans,  and  went  with  no- 
body but  the  English." 

"Do  you  like  them  better?  "  asked  Lydia,  with 
the  blunt,  child-like  directness  that  had  already 
more  than  once  startled  her  aunt. 

"Like  them!  I  detest  them!  If  Mr.  Erwin 
were  a  real  Englishman,  I  think  I  should  go  crazy, 
but  he  's  been  so  little  in  his  own  country  —  all  hia 
life  in  India,  nearly,  and  the  rest  on  the  Continent, 
—  that  he  's  quite  human ;  and  no  American  hus- 
band was  ever  more  patient  and  indulgent;  ana 
that '«  saying  a  good  deal.  He  would  be  glad  U 


278  THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK. 

have  nothing  but  Americans  around ;  he  has  an  e» 
thusiasm  for  them,  —  or  for  what  he  supposes  they 
are.  Like  the  English  !  You  ought  to  have  heard 
them  during  our  war ;  it  would  have  made  your 
blood  boil !  And  then  how  they  came  crawling 
round  after  it  was  all  over,  and  trying  to  pet  ui 
up!  Ugh!" 

"  If  you  feel  so  about  them,"  said  Lydia,  as  be- 
fore, "why  do  you  want  to  go  with  them  so 
much?" 

"  My  dear,"  cried  her  aunt,  "  to  beat  them  with 
their  own  weapons  on  their  own  ground,  —  to  show 
them  that  an  American  can  be  more  European  than 
any  of  them,  if  she  chooses !  And  now  you  've 
come  here  with  looks  and  temperament  and  every- 
thing just  to  my  hand.  You  're  more  beautiful 
than  any  English  girl  ever  dreamt  of  being ;  you  're 
very  distinguished-looking  ;  your  voice  is  perfectly 
divine ;  and  you  're  colder  than  an  iceberg.  OA, 
if  I  only  had  one  winter  with  you  in  Rome,  I  think 
I  should  die  in  peace  !  "  Mrs.  Erwin  paused,  and 
drank  her  chocolate,  which  she  had  been  letting 
cool  in  the  eagerness  of  her  discourse.  "  But,  never 
mind,"  she  continued,  "  we  will  do  the  best  we  can 
here.  I  've  seen  English  girls  going  out  two  or 
three  together,  without  protection,  in  Rome  and 
Florence ;  but  I  mean  that  you  shall  be  quite 
Italian  in  that  respect.  The  Italians  never  go  out 
without  a  chaperone  of  some  sort,  and  you  must 
aeyer  be  seen  without  me,  or  your  uncle,  01 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       278 

Veronica.  Now  I  '11  tell  you  how  JT>U  must  do  at 
parties,  and  so  on.  You  must  be  very  retiring; 
you  're  that,  any  way ;  but  you  must  always  keep 
close  to  me.  It  does  n't  do  for  young  people  to 
talk  much  together  in  society ;  it  makes  scandal 
about  a  girl.  If  you  dance,  you  must  always  hurry 
back  to  me.  Dear  me ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Erwin, 
"I  remember  how,  when  I  was  a  girl,  I  used  to 
hang  on  to  the  young  men's  arms,  and  promenade 
with  them  after  a  dance,  and  go  out  to  supper  with 
them,  and  flirt  on  the  stairs,  —  such  times !  But 
that  would  n't  do  here,  Lydia.  It  would  ruin  a 
girl's  reputation ;  she  could  hardly  walk  arm  in 
arm  with  a  youDg  man  if  she  was  engaged  to  him." 
Lydia  blushed  darkly  red,  and  then  turned  paler 
than  usual,  while  her  aunt  went  on.  "  You  might 
do  it,  perhaps,  and  have  it  set  down  to  American 
eccentricity  or  under-breeding,  but  I  'm  not  going 
to  have  that.  I  intend  you  to  be  just  as  dull  and 
diffident  in  society  as  if  you  were  an  Italian,  and 
more  than  if  you  were  English.  Your  voice,  of 
course,  is  a  difficulty.  If  you  sing,  that  will  make 
you  conspicuous,  in  spite  of  everything.  But  T 
don't  see  why  that  can't  be  turned  to  advantage ; 
it 's  no  worse  than  your  beauty.  Yes,  if  you  're 
?o  splendid-looking  and  so  gifted,  and  at  the  same 
time  as  stupid  as  the  rest,  it 's  so  much  clear  gain, 
t  will  come  easy  for  you  to  be  shy  with  men,  for  I 
luppose  you  've  hardly  ever  talked  with  any,  living 
ip  thoro  in  that  out-of-the-way  village ;  and  yom 


280       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

manner  is  very  good.  It 's  reserved,  and  yet  it 
isn't  green.  The  way,"  continued  Mrs.  Erwin, 
"to  treat  men  in  Europe  is  to  behave  as  if  they 
ffere  guilty  till  they  prove  themselves  innocent, 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  reverse  all  your  American 
ideas.  But  here  I  am,  lecturing  you  as  if  you  had 
been  just  such  a  girl  as  I  was,  with  half  a  dozen 
love  affairs  on  her  hands  at  once,  and  no  end  of 
gentlemen  friends.  Europe  won't  be  hard  for  you, 
my  dear,  for  you  have  n't  got  anything  to  unleain. 
But  some  girls  that  come  over !  —  it 's  perfectly 
ridiculous,  the  trouble  they  get  into,  and  the  time 
they  have  getting  things  straight.  They  take  it  for 
granted  that  men  in  good  society  are  gentlemen,  — 
what  we  mean  by  gentlemen." 

Lydia  had  been  letting  her  coffee  stand,  and  had 
scarcely  tasted  the  delicious  French  bread  and  the 
sweet  Lombard  butter  of  which  her  aunt  ate  so 
heartily.  "  Why,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin,  at  last, 
"where  is  your  appetite?  One  would  think  you 
were  the  elderly  invalid  who  had  been  up  late. 
Did  you  find  it  too  exciting  to  sit  at  home  looking 
at  a  novel  ?  What  was  it  ?  If  it 's  a  new  story  I 
should  like  to  see  it.  But  you  did  n't  bring  a  novel 
from  South  Bradfield  with  you?  " 

" No,"  said  Lydia,  with  a  husky  reluctance.  "  One 
of  the  —  passengers  gave  it  to  me." 

"  Had  you  many  passengers  ?  But  of  course  not, 
rhat  was  what  made  it  so  delightful  when  I  came 
»ver  that  way.  I  was  newly  married  then,  and 


THE  LADT   OF  THE   AROOSTOOK.  281 

with  spirits —  oli  dear  me  !  —  for  anything.  It  was 
one  adventure,  the  whole  way ;  and  we  got  so  well 
acquainted,  it  was  like  one  family.  I  suppose  your 
grandfather  put  you  in  charge  of  some  family.  I 
know  artists  sometimes  come  out  that  way,  and 
people  for  their  health." 

44  There  was  no  family  on  our  ship,"  said  Lydia. 
"  My  state-room  had  been  fixed  up  for  the  captain's 
wife  "  — 

"  Our  captain's  wife  was  along,  too,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Erwin.  u  She  was  such  a  joke  with  us.  She 
had  been  out  to  Venice  on  a  voyage  before,  and 
used  to  be  always  talking  about  the  Du-cal  Palace. 
And  did  they  really  turn  out  of  their  state-room 
for  you  ?  " 

"  She  was  not  along,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Not  along  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Erwin,  feebly. 
44  Who  —  who  were  the  other  passengers  ?  " 

44  There  were  three  gentlemen,"  answered  Lydia. 

44 Three  gentlemen ?  Three  men?  Three —  And 
y v.u  —  and  "  —  Mrs.  Erwin  fell  back  upon  her  pil- 
low, and  remained  gazing  at  Lydia,  with  a  sort  of 
remote  bewildered  pity,  as  at  perdition,  not  indeed 
beyond  compassion,  but  far  beyond  help.  Lydia's 
oolor  had  been  coming  and  going,  but  now  it  settled 
to  a  clear  white.  Mrs.  Erwin  commanded  herself 
lufficiently  to  resume:  44  And  there  were — there 
*ere  —  no  other  ladies  ?  " 

"No." 

"And  you  were  '  — 


282  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

"  I  was  the  only  woman  on  board,"  replied  Lydia 
She  rose  abruptly,  striking  the  edge  of  the  table  IB 
her  movement,  and  setting  its  china  and  silver  jar- 
ring. "  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean,  aunt  Jose- 
phine, but  two  days  ago  I  could  n't  have  dreamt  it  1 
From  the  time  the  ship  sailed  till  I  reached  this 
wicked  place,  there  was  n't  a  word  said  nor  a  look 
looked  to  make  me  think  I  was  n't  just  as  right  and 
safe  there  as  if  I  had  been  in  my  own  room  at 
home  They  were  never  anything  but  kind  and 
good  to  me.  They  never  let  me  think  that  they 
could  be  my  enemies,  or  that  I  must  suspect  them 
and  be  on  the  watch  against  them.  They  were 
Americans  I  I  had  to  wait  for  one  of  your  Eu- 
ropeans to  teach  me  that, — for  that  officer  who  was 
here  yesterday  "  — 

44  The  cavaliere  ?     Why,  where  "  — 

44  He  spoke  to  me  in  the  cars,  when  Mr.  Erwin 
was  asleep  !  Had  he  any  right  to  do  so  ?" 

44  He  would  think  he  had,  if  he  thought  you  wera 
alone,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin,  plaintively.  "  I  don't  see 
how  we  could  resent  it.  It  was  simply  a  mistake 
on  his  part.  And  now  you  see,  Lydia  "  — 

44  Oh,  I  see  how  my  coming  the  way  I  have  will 
seem  to  all  these  people  I  "  cried  Lydia,  with  pas- 
sionate despair.  "  I  know  how  it  will  seem  to  that 
Carried  woman  who  lets  a  man  be  in  love  with  her 
*nd  that  old  woman  who  can't  live  with  her  hus* 
band  because  he 's  too  good  and  kind,  and  that  girl 
who  swears  and  does  n't  know  who  her  father  is, 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  283 

that  impudent  painter,  and  that  officer  who 
thinks  he  has  the  right  to  insult  women  if  he  finds 
them  alone  !  I  wonder  the  sea  does  n't  swallow  up 
a  place  where  even  Americans  go  to  the  theatre  on 
the  Sabbath!" 

"  Lydia,  Lydia !  It  is  n't  so  bad  as  it  seems  to 
you,"  pleaded  her  aunt,  thrown  upon  the  defensive 
by  the  girl's  outburst.  "  There  are  ever  so  many 
good  and  nice  people  in  Venice,  and  I  know  them, 
too,  —  Italians  as  well  as  foreigners.  And  even 
amongst  those  you  saw,  Miss  Landini  is  one  of  the 
kindest  girls  in  the  world,  and  she  had  just  been  to 
see  her  old  teacher  when  we  met  her,  —  she  half 
takes  care  of  him ;  and  Lady  Fenleigh  's  a  perfect 
mother  to  the  poor ;  and  I  never  was  at  the  Count- 
ess Tatocka's  except  in  the  most  distant  way,  at  a 
ball  where  everybody  went ;  and  is  it  better  to  let 
your  uncle  go  to  the  opera  alone,  or  to  go  with 
him  ?  You  told  me  to  go  with  him  yourself ;  and 
they  consider  Sunday  over,  on  the  Continent,  after 
morning  service,  any  way !  " 

"  Oh,  it  makes  no  difference ! "  retorted  Lydia, 
wildly.  "  I  am  going  away.  I  am  going  home.  I 
have  money  enough  to  get  to  Trieste,  and  the  ship 
is  there,  and  Captain  Jenness  will  take  me  back 
with  him.  Oh  !  "  she  moaned.  "  He  has  been  in 
Europe,  too,  and  I  suppose  he  's  like  the  rest  of 
you ;  and  he  thought  because  I  was  alone  and  help- 
less he  had  the  right  to  —  Oh,  I  see  it,  I  see  now 
Vbat  he  never  meant  anything,  and  —  Oh,  oh,  oh  J ' 


284  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  as  if  crushed 
to  them  by  the  cruel  doubt  that  suddenly  over- 
whelmed her,  and  flung  out  her  arms  oil  Mrs.  Er- 
win's  coverlet  —  it  was  of  Venetian  lace  sewed 
upon  silk,  a  choice  bit  from  the  palace  of  one  oi 
the  ducal  families  —  and  buried  her  face  in  it. 

Her  aunt  rose  from  her  pillow,  and  looked  in 
wonder  and  trouble  at  the  beautiful  fallen  head, 
and  the  fair  young  figure  shaken  with  sobs.  "  He 
—  who  —  what  are  you  talking  about,  Lydia  ? 
Whom  do  you  mean  ?  Did  Captain  Jenness  "  — 

"  No,  no  I  "  wailed  the  girl,  "  the  one  that  gave 
me  the  book." 

"  The  one  that  gave  you  the  book  ?  The  book 
you  were  looking  at  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  sobbed  Lydia,  with  her  voice  muffled  in 
the  coverlet. 

Mrs.  Erwin  lay  down  again  with  significant  de- 
liberation. Her  face  was  still  full  of  trouble,  but 
of  bewilderment  no  longer.  In  moments  of  great 
distress  the  female  mind  is  apt  to  lay  hold  of  some 
minor  anxiety  for  its  distraction,  and  to  find  a  cer- 
tain relief  in  it.  "  Lydia,"  said  her  aunt  in  a 
broken  voice,  "  I  wish  you  would  n't  cry  in  the  cov- 
erlet :  it  ioes  n't  hurt  the  lace,  but  it  stains  the 
gilk."  Lydia  swept  her  handkerchief  under  her 
face  but  did  not  lift  it.  Her  aunt  accepted  the 
compromise.  "  How  came  he  to  give  you  the 


«  Oh,  I  don't  know.     I  can't  tell.     I  thought  it 


THE  I ADY   OF  THE   ABOOSTOOK.  285 

iras  because  —  because  —  It  was  almost  at  the 
?ery  beginning.  And  after  that  he  walked  up  and 
down  with  me  every  night,  nearly  ;  and  he  tried  to 
be  with  me  all  he  could  ;  and  he  was  always  saying 
things  to  make  me  think  —  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  oh 
dear !  And  he  tried  to  make  me  care  for  him  !  Oh 
it  was  cruel,  cruel!  " 

"  You  mean  that  he  made  love  to  you  ?  "  asked 
her  aunt. 

"  Yes  —  no  —  I  don't  know.  He  tried  to  make 
me  care  for  him,  and  to  make  me  think  he  cared  for 
me." 

"  Did  he  say  he  cared  for  you  ?     Did  he  "  — 

"  No !  " 

Mrs.  Erwin  mused  a  while  before  she  said,  "  Yes, 
it  was  cruel  indeed,  poor  child,  and  it  was  cowardly, 
too." 

"  Cowardly  ?  "  Lydia  lifted  her  face,  and  flashed 
a  glance  of  tearful  fire  at  her  aunt.  "  He  is  the 
bravest  man  in  the  world  !  And  the  most  generous 
and  high-minded !  He  jumped  into  the  sea  after 
that  wicked  Mr.  Hicks,  and  saved  his  life,  when  he 
disliked  him  worse  than  anything  !  " 

"  Who  was  Mr.  Hicks  ?  " 

"  He  was  the  one  that  stopped  at  Messina.  He 
was  the  one  that  got  some  brandy  at  Gibraltar,  and 
behaved  so  dreadfully,  and  wanted  to  fight  him." 

"Whom?" 

"  This  one.  The  one  who  gave  me  the  book. 
And  don't  you  see  that  his  being  so  good  Tnak*e  it 


286       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

all  the  worse  ?  Yes ;  and  he  pretended  to  be  glad 
when  I  told  him  I  thought  he  was  good,  —  he  got 
me  to  say  it !  "  She  had  her  face  down  again  in 
her  handkerchief.  "  And  I  suppose  you  tKink  it 
was  horrible,  too,  for  me  to  take  his  arm,  and  talk 
and  walk  with  him  whenever  he  asked  me  ! " 

"  No,  not  for  you,  Lydia,"  said  her  aunt,  gently 
41  And  don't  you  think  now,"  she  asked  after  4 
pause,  "  that  he  cared  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  did  think  so,  —  I  did  believe  it ;  but 
now,  now  "  — 

"Now,  what?" 

"  Now,  I  'm  afraid  that  may  be  he  was  only  play- 
ing with  me,  and  putting  me  off ;  and  pretending 
that  he  had  something  to  tell  me  when  he  got  to 
Venice,  and  he  never  meant  anything  by  anything." 

"  Is  he  coming  to  "  —  her  aunt  began,  but  Lydia 
broke  vehemently  out  again. 

"  If  he  had  cared  for  me,  why  could  n't  he  have 
told  me  so  at  once,  and  not  had  me  wait  till  he  got 
to  Venice  ?  He  knew  I "  — 

"  There  are  two  ways  of  explaining  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Erwin.  "  He  may  have  been  in  earnest,  Lydia,  and 
felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  be  more  explicit  till 
you  were  in  the  care  of  your  friends.  That  would 
be  the  European  way  which  you  consider  so  bad," 
said  Mrs.  Erwin.  "  Under  the  circumstances,  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  keep  any  distance,  and 
ill  he  could  do  was  to  postpone  his  declaration  til] 
there  could  be  something  like  good  form  about  it 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       281 

Fes,  it  might  have  been  that."  She  was  silent,  but 
bhe  troubled  look  did  not  leave  her  face.  "I  am 
lorry  for  you,  Lydia,"  she  resumed,  "but  I  don't 
know  that  I  wish  he  was  in  earnest."  Lydia  looked 
up  at  her  in  dismay.  "It  might  be  far  less  em- 
barrassing the  other  way,  however  painful.  He 
ttcay  not  be  at  all  a  suitable  person."  The  tears 
gfcood  in  Lydia's  eyes,  and  all  her  face  expressed  a 
puzzled  suspense.  "Where  was  he  from  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Erwin,  finally ;  till  then  she  had  been  more 
interested  in  the  lover  than  the  man. 

"  Boston,"  mechanically  answered  Lydia. 

"  What  was  his  name  ?  " 

"Mr.  Staniford,"  owned  Lydia,  with  a  blush. 

Her  aunt  seemed  dispirited  at  the  sound.  "  Yes, 
[  know  who  they  are,"  she  sighed. 

"  And  are  n't  they  nice  ?  Is  n't  he  —  suitable  ?  " 
asked  Lydia,  tremulously. 

"  Oh,  poor  child !  He  's  only  too  suitable.  1 
can't  explain  to  you,  Lydia;  but  at  home  he 
wouldn't  have  looked  at  a  girl  like  you.  What 
sort  of  looking  person  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  's  rather  —  red ;  and  he  has — light  hair." 

"  It  must  be  the  family  I  'm  thinking  of,"  said 
Mrs.  Erwin.  She  had  lived  nearly  twenty  years  in 
Europe,  and  had  seldom  revisited  her  native  city  ; 
but  at  the  sound  of  a  Boston  name  she  was  all 
Bostonian  again.  She  rapidly  sketched  the  history 
of  the  family  to  which  she  imagined  Staniford  to 
Mong.  "  I  remember  his  sister  ;  I  used  to  see  hei 


288       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

fct  school.  She  must  have  been  five  or  six  yean 
younger  than  I ;  and  this  boy  "  — 

"  Why;  he  's  twenty-eight  years  old  !  "  inter- 
rupted Lydia. 

"How  came  he  to  tell  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  said  that  he  looked  thirty- 
four/' 

"Yes;  she  was  always  a  forward  thing  too, — 
with  her  freckles,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin,  musingly,  ai 
if  lost  in  reminiscences,  not  wholly  pleasing,  of  MIM 
Stamford. 

"  He  has  freckles,"  admitted  Lydia. 

"Yes,  it's  the  one,"  said  Mrs.  Erwin.  "He 
could  n't  have  known  what  your  family  was  from 
anything  you  said  ?  " 

"  We  never  talked  about  our  families." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  1  You  talked  about  your- 
wlves  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  All  the  time  ?  " 

"  Pretty  nearly." 

"  And  he  did  n't  try  to  find  out  who  or  what  yon 
were?" 

"  He  asked  a  great  deal  about  South  Bradfield." 

"  Of  course,  that  was  where  he  thought  you  had 
always  belonged."  Mrs.  Erwin  lay  quiescent  for  a 
while,  in  apparent  uncertainty  as  to  how  she  should 
next  attack  the  subject.  "  How  did  you  first 
meet?" 

Lydia  began  with  the  scene  on  Lucas  Wharf 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       288 

md  little  by  little  told  the  whole  story  up  to  the 
moment  of  their  parting  at  Trieste.  There  were 
lapses  and  pauses  in  the  story,  which  her  aunt  was 
never  at  a  loss  to  fill  aright.  At  the  end  she  said, 
"  If  it  were  not  for  his  promising  to  come  here  and 
gee  you,  I  should  say  Mr.  Stanif ord  had  been  flirt 
ing,  and  as  it  is  he  may  not  regard  it  as  anything 
more  than  flirtation.  Of  course,  there  was  his  be- 
ing jealous  of  Mr.  Dunham  and  Mr.  Hicks,  as  he 
certainly  was;  and  his  wanting  to  explain  about 
that  lady  at  Messina  —  yes,  that  looked  peculiar; 
but  he  may  not  have  meant  anything  by  it.  His 
parting  so  at  Trieste  with  you,  that  might  be  either 
because  he  was  embarrassed  at  its  having  got  to  be 
such  a  serious  thing,  or  because  he  really  felt  badly. 
Lydia,"  she  asked  at  last,  "  what  made  you  think 
he  cared  for  you  ?  " 

" 1  don't  know,"  said  the  girl ;  her  voice  had  sunk 
to  a  husky  whisper.  "  I  did  n't  believe  it  till  he 
said  he  wanted  me  to  be  his  —  conscience,  and  tried 
fco  make  me  say  he  was  good,  and  "  — 

"  That 's  a  certain  kind  of  man's  way  of  flirting. 
It  may  mean  nothing  at  all.  I  could  tell  in  an 
instant,  if  I  saw  him." 

"  He  said  he  would  be  here  this  afternoon,"  mur- 
inured  Lydia,  tremulously. 

"  This  afternoon !  "  cried  Mrs.  Erwin.  "  I  must 
jret  up  1 " 

At  her  toilette  she  had  the  exaltation  and  furj 
if  a  champion  arming  for  battle. 

19 


XXV 

MB.  EBWIN  entered  about  the  completion  of  hei 
pieparations,  and  without  turning  round  from  hei 
glass  she  said,  "  I  want  you  to  think  of  the  worst 
fching  you  can,  Henshaw.  I  don't  see  how  I  'm  ever 
to  lift  up  my  head  again."  As  if  this  word  had 
reminded  her  of  her  head,  she  turned  it  from  side 
to  side,  and  got  the  effect  in  the  glass,  first  of  one 
ear-ring,  and  then  of  the  other.  Her  husband 
patiently  waited,  and  she  now  confronted  him. 
"  You  may  as  well  know  first  as  last,  Henshaw, 
and  I  want  you  to  prepare  yourself  for  it.  Noth- 
ing can  be  done,  and  you  will  just  have  to  live 
through  it.  Lydia  —  has  come  over  —  on  that 
ship  —  alone, — with  three  young  men,  —  and  not 
the  shadow  —  not  the  ghost — of  another  woman  — 
on  board  I "  Mrs.  Erwin  gesticulated  with  her 
hand-glass  in  delivering  the  words,  in  a  manner  at 
Dnce  intensely  vivid  and  intensely  solemn,  yet  some- 
how falling  short  of  the  due  tragic  effect.  Hei 
husband  stood  pulling  his  mustache  straight  down, 
while  his  wife  turned  again  to  the  mirror,  and  put 
*he  final  touches  to  her  personal  appearance  with 
bands  which  she  had  the  effect  of  having  desper- 
ately washed  of  all  responsibility.  He  stood  so 
long  in  this  meditative  mood  that  she  was  obliged 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       29$ 

So  be   peremptory  with  his   image   in  the   glass, 
14  Well?"  she  cried. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Erwin,  at  last,  "  they 
vrere  all  Americans  together,  you  know." 

"  And  what  difference  does  that  make  ? "  de- 
manded Mrs.  Erwin,  whirling  from  his  image  to 
the  man  again. 

"  Why,  of  course,  you  know,  it  is  n't  as  if  they 
were  —  English."  Mrs.  Erwin  flung  down  three 
hair-pins  upon  her  dressing-case,  and  visibly  de- 
spaired. "  Of  course  you  don't  expect  your  coun- 
trymen "  —  His  wife's  appearance  was  here  so 
terrible  that  he  desisted,  and  resumed  by  saying, 
"  Don't  be  vexed,  my  dear.  I  —  I  rather  like  it,  you 
know.  It  strikes  me  as  a  genuine  bit  of  American 
civilization." 

"  American  civilization  !  Oh,  Henshaw !  "  wailed 
Mrs.  Erwin,  "  is  it  possible  that  after  all  I  've  said, 
and  done,  and  lived,  you  still  think  that  any  one  but 
a  girl  from  the  greenest  little  country  place  could 
lo  such  a  thing  as  that  ?  Well,  it  is  no  use  trying 
to  enlighten  English  people.  You  like  it,  do  you  ? 
Well,  I  'm  not  sure  that  the  Englishman  who  mis- 
inderstands  American  things  and  likes  them  is  n't 
a  little  worse  than  the  Englishman  who  misunder- 
stands them  and  dislikes  them.  You  all  misunder- 
stand them.  And  would  you  like  it,  if  one  of  the 
young  men  had  been  making  love  to  Lydia  ?  " 

The  amateur  of  our  civilization  hesitated  and  waa 
terious,  but  he  said  at  last,  "  Why,  you  know,  I  'm 


292       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

not  surprised.  She  's  so  uncommonly  pretty.  I  —  I 
luppose  they  're  engaged  ?  "  he  suggested. 

His  wife  held  her  peace  for  scorn.  Then  she  said, 
"  The  gentleman  is  of  a  very  good  Boston  family, 
and  would  no  more  think  of  engaging  himself  to  a 
young  girl  without  the  knowledge  of  her  friend* 
than  you  would.  Besides,  he  's  been  in  Europe  a 
great  deal." 

"  I  wish  I  could  meet  some  Americans  who  had 
n't  been  in  Europe,"  said  Mr.  Erwin.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  what  you  call  the  simon-pure  American. 
As  for  the  young  man's  not  engaging  himself,  it 
seems  to  me  that  he  did  n't  avail  himself  of  his  na- 
tional privileges.  I  should  certainly  have  done  it  in 
his  place,  if  I  'd  been  an  American." 

44  Well,  if  you  'd  been  an  American,  you  would 
n't,"  answered  his  wife. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  an  American  would  have  had  too  much 
lelicacy." 

"  I  don't  understand  that." 

"  I  know  you  don't,  Henshaw.  And  there  'B 
where  you  show  yourself  an  Englishman." 

"  Really,"  said  her  husband,  "  you  're  beginning 
to  crow,  my  dear.  Come,  I  like  that  a  great  deal 
better  than  your  cringing  .to  the  effete  despotisms 
of  the  Old  World,  as  your  Fourth  of  July  orators 
hfcye  it.  It 's  almost  impossible  to  get  a  bit  of  good 
honest  bounce  out  of  an  American,  nowadays,  —  to 
get  him  to  spread  himself,  as  you  say." 


THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  298 

"  All  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,  Henshaw," 
laid  his  wife.  "  The  question  is  how  to  receive  Mr. 
Btanif  ord — that 's  his  name — when  he  comes.  How 
are  we  to  regard  him  ?  He  's  coming  here  to  see 
Lydia,  and  she  thinks  he  's  coming  to  propose." 

"  Excuse  me,  but  how  does  she  regard  him  ?  " 

44  Oh,  there  's  no  question  about  that,  poor  child. 
She  's  dead  in  love  with  him,  and  can't  understand 
why  he  didn't  propose  on  shipboard." 

44  And  she  is  n't  an  Englishman,  either  !  "  exulted 
Mr.  Erwin.  44  It  appears  that  there  are  Americana 
and  Americans,  and  that  the  men  of  your  nation 
have  more  delicacy  than  the  women  like." 

44  Don't  be  silly,"  said  his  wife.  44  Of  course, 
women  always  think  what  they  would  do  in  such 
cases,  if  they  were  men  ;  but  if  men  did  what  women 
think  they  would  do  if  they  were  men,  the  women 
would  be  disgusted." 

44  Oh  ! " 

44  Yes.     Her  feeling  in  the  matter  is  no  guide." 

44  Do  you  know  his  family  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Erwin. 

44 1  think  I  do.     Yes,  I  'm  sure  I  do." 

44  Are  they  nice  people  ?  " 

44  Have  'nt  I  told  you  they  were  a  good  Boston 
tamily  ?  " 

44  Then  upon  my  word,  I  don't  see  that  we  've  tc 
lake  any  attitude  at  all.  I  don't  see  that  we  Ve  tc 
regard  him  in  one  way  or  the  other.  It  quite  re 
mains  for  him  to  make  the  first  move." 

As  if  they  had  been  talking  of  nothing  but  dresi 


294       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

before,  Mrs.  Erwin  asked :  "  Do  you  think  I  look 
better  in  this  black  mexicaine,  or  would  you  wear 
jrour  e*cru  ?  " 

44 1  think  you  look  very  well  in  this.  But  why  — 
He  is  n't  going  to  propose  to  you,  I  hope  ?  " 

44  I  must  have  on  something  decent  to  receive  him 
in.  What  time  does  the  train  from  Trieste  gel 
in?" 

"  At  three  o'clock." 

"  It 's  one,  now.  There 's  plenty  of  time,  but 
there  is  n't  any  too  much.  I  '11  go  and  get  Lydia 
ready.  Or  perhaps  you  '11  tap  on  her  door,  Henshaw, 
and  send  her  here.  Of  course,  this  is  the  end  of  her 
voice,  —  if  it  is  the  end." 

"  It 's  the  end  of  having  an  extraordinarily  pretty 
girl  in  the  house.  I  don't  at  all  like  it,  you  know, 
—  having  her  whisked  away  in  this  manner." 

Mrs.  Erwin  refused  to  let  her  mind  wander  from 
the  main  point.  "  He  '11  be  round  as  soon  as  he  can, 
after  he  arrives.  I  shall  expect  him  by  four,  at  the 
latest." 

"  I  fancy  he  '11  stop  for  his  dinner  before  he  comes/' 
laid  Mr.  Erwin. 

44  Not  at  all,"  retorted  his  wife,  haughtily.  And 
with  his  going  out  of  the  room,  she  set  her  face  in 
A  resolute  cheerfulness,  for  the  task  of  heartening 
Lydia  when  she  should  appear ;  but  it  only  expressed 
Dt jsgiving  when  the  girl  came  in  with  her  yachting* 
Iross  on.  "  Why,  Lydia,  shall  you  wear  that  ?  " 

Lydia  swept  her  dress  with  a  downward  glance 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       296 

*  I  thought  I  would  wear  it.  I  thought  he  —  1 
ihould  seem  —  more  natural  in  it.  I  wore  it  all  the 
time  on  the  ship,  except  Sundays.  He  said  —  he 
liked  it  the  best." 

Mrs.  Erwin  shook  her  head.  "  It  would  n't  do. 
Everything  must  be  on  a  new  basis  now.  He  might 
like  it ;  but  it  would  be  too  romantic,  would  n't  it, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  She  shook  her  head  still,  but 
less  decisively.  "  Better  wear  your  silk.  Don't 
you  think  you  'd  better  wear  your  silk  ?  Thia 
is  very  pretty,  and  the  dark  blue  does  become 
you,  awfully.  Still,  I  don't  know  —  I  don't  know, 
either  !  A  great  many  English  wear  those  careless 
things  in  the  house.  Well,  wear  it,  Lydia  !  You 
do  look  perfectly  killing  in  it.  I  '11  tell  you  :  your 
uncle  was  going  to  ask  you  to  go  out  in  his  boat ; 
he  's  got  one  he  rows  himself,  and  this  is  a  boating 
costume  ;  and  you  know  you  could  time  yourselves 
BO  as  to  get  back  just  right,  and  you  could  come  in 
with  this  on  "  — 

Lydia  turned  pale.  "  Ought  n't  I  —  ought  n't  I 
—  to  be  here  ?  "  she  faltered. 

Her  aunt  laughed  gayly.  "  Why,  he  '11  ask  foi 
me,  Lydia." 

"  For  you  ?  "  asked  Lydia,  doubtfully. 

"  Yes.  And  I  can  easily  keep  him  till  you  get 
back.  If  you  're  here  by  four  "  — 

"The  train,"  said  Lydia,  "  arrives  at  three." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  asked  her  aunt,  keenly 

Lydia's  eyelids  fell  even  lower  than  their  wont 


296       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

4 1  looked  it  out  in  that  railroad  guide  in  the 
lor." 

Her  aunt  kissed  her.  "  And  you  've  thought  the 
whole  thing  out,  dear,  have  n't  you  ?  I  'm  glad  to 
see  you  so  happy  about  it." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  fluttering  breath,  "I 
have  thought  it  out,  and  1  believe  him.  I "  —  She 
tried  to  say  something  more,  but  could  not. 

Mrs.  Erwin  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  for  her  hus- 
band. "  He  knows  about  it,  Lydia,"  she  said. 
"He's  just  as  much  interested  as  we  are,  dear,  but 
you  need  n't  be  worried.  He  's  a  perfect  post  for 
not  showing  a  thing  if  you  don't  want  him  to. 
He  's  really  quite  superhuman,  in  that,  —  equal  to 
a  woman.  You  can  talk  Americanisms  with  him. 
If  we  sat  here  staring  at  each  other  till  four  o'clock, 
—  he  must  go  to  his  hotel  before  he  comes  here ; 
and  I  say  four  at  the  earliest ;  and  it 's  much  more 
likely  to  be  five  or  six,  or  perhaps  evening,  —  I 
should  die !  " 

Mr.  Erwin's  rowing  was  the  wonder  of  all  Ven- 
ice. There  was  every  reason  why  he  should  fall 
overboard  at  each  stroke,  as  he  stood  to  propel  the 
ooat  in  the  gondolier  fashion,  except  that  he  never 
yet  had  done  so.  It  was  sometimes  his  fortune  to 
be  caught  on  the  shallows  by  the  falling  tide ;  but 
on  that  day  he  safely  explored  the  lagoons,  and  re- 
lumed promptly  at  four  o'clock  to  the  palace. 

His  wife  was  standing  on  the  balcony,  looking 
•at  for  them,  and  she  smiled  radiantly  down  into 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Lydia's  anxiously  lifted  face.  But  when  she  met 
the  girl  at  the  head  of  the  staircase  in  the  great 
hall,  she  embraced  her,  and  said,  with  the  same  gay 
smile,  "  He  has  n't  come  yet,  dear,  and  of  course  he 
won't  come  till  after  dinner.  If  I  had  n't  been  as 
silly  as  you  are,  Lydia,  I  never  should  have  let  you 
expect  him  sooner.  He  '11  want  to  go  to  his  hotel ; 
and  no  matter  how  impatient  he  is,  he  '11  want  to 
dress,  and  be  a  little  ceremonious  about  his  calL 
You  know  we  're  strangers  to  him,  whatever  you 
are." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia,  mechanically.  She  was  going 
to  sit  down,  as  she  was  ;  of  her  own  motion  she 
would  not  have  stirred  from  the  place  till  he  came, 
or  it  was  certain  he  would  not  come  ;  but  her  aunt 
would  not  permit  the  despair  into  which  she  saw 
her  sinking. 

She  laughed  resolutely,  and  said,  "  I  think  we 
must  give  up  the  little  sentimentality  of  meeting 
him  in  that  dress,  now.  Go  and  change  it,  Lydia. 
Put  on  your  silk,  —  or  wait :  let  me  go  with  you. 
I  want  to  try  some  little  effects  with  your  complex- 
ion. We  Ve  experimented  with  the  simple  and  fa- 
miliar, and  now  we  '11  see  what  can  be  done  in  the 
way  of  the  magnificent  and  unexpected.  I  'm  going 
to  astonish  the  young  man  with  a  Venetian  beauty; 
vou  know  you  look  Italian,  Lydia." 

"  Yes,  he  said  so,"  answered  Lydia. 

44  Did  he  ?  That  shows  he  has  an  eye,  and  he  'U 
appreciate  what  we  are  going  to  do." 


298       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

She  took  Lydia  to  her  own  room,  for  the  greater 
convenience  of  her  experiments,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment she  did  not  allow  her  to  be  alone ;  she  scarcely 
allowed  her  to  be  silent ;  she  made  her  talk,  she 
kept  her  in  movement.  At  dinner  she  permitted  no 
lapse.  "  Henshaw,"  she  said,  "  Lydia  has  been  tell- 
ing me  about  a  storm  they  had  just  before  they 
reached  Gibraltar.  I  wish  you  would  tell  her  oi 
the  typhoon  you  were  in  when  you  first  went  out 
to  India."  Her  husband  obeyed  ;  and  then  recur- 
ring to  the  days  of  his  civil  employment  in  India, 
he  told  stories  of  tiger-hunts,  and  of  the  Sepoy 
mutiny.  Mrs.  Erwin  would  not  let  them  sit  very 
long  at  table.  After  dinner  she  asked  Lydia  to 
sing,  and  she  suffered  her  to  sing  all  the  American 
songs  her  uncle  asked  for.  At  eight  o'clock  she 
said  with  a  knowing  little  look  at  Lydia,  which  in- 
cluded a  sub-wink  for  her  husband,  "  You  may  go 
to  your  caf£  alone,  this  evening,  Henshaw.  Lydia 
and  I  are  going  to  stay  at  home  and  talk  South 
Bradfield  gossip.  I  've  hardly  had  a  moment  with 
her  yet."  But  when  he  was  gone,  she  took  Lydia 
to  her  own  room  again,  and  showed  her  all  her  jew- 
elry, and  passed  the  time  in  making  changes  in  the 
girl's  toilette. 

It  was  like  the  heroic  endeavor  of  the  arctic  voy- 
ager who  feels  the  deadly  chill  in  his  own  veins,  and 
keeps  himself  alive  by  rousing  his  comrade  from  the 
torpor  stealing  over  him.  They  saw  in  each  other's 
eyes  that  if  they  yielded  a  moment  to  the  doubt  in 
hearts  they  were  lost. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       299 

At  ten  o'clock  Mrs.  Erwin  said  abruptly,  "  Go  to 
bed,  Lydia !  "  Then  the  girl  broke  down,  and  aban- 
doned herself  in  a  storm  of  tears.  "  Don't  cry,  dear, 
don't  cry,"  pleaded  her  aunt.  "  He  will  be  here  in 
the  morning,  I  know  he  will.  He  has  been  de- 
layed." 

"  No,  he  *s  not  coming,"  said  Lydia,  through  hoi 
sobs. 

"  Something  has  happened,"  urged  Mrs.  Erwin. 

"  No,"  said  Lydia,  as  before.  Her  tears  ceased 
as  suddenly  as  they  had  come.  She  lifted  her  head, 
and  drying  her  eyes  looked  into  her  aunt's  face. 
"  Are  you  ashamed  of  me  ?  ' '  she  asked  hoarsely. 

"  Ashamed  of  you  ?     Oh,  poor  child  "  — 

"  I  can't  pretend  anything.  If  I  had  never  told 
you  about  it  at  all,  I  could  have  kept  it  back  till  I 
died.  But  now —  But  you  will  never  hear  me 
speak  of  it  again.  It 's  over."  She  took  up  her 
candle,  and  stiffly  suffering  the  compassionate  em- 
brace with  which  her  aunt  clung  to  her,  she  walked 
across  the  great  hall  in  the  vain  splendor  in  which 
ihe  had  been  adorned^  and  shut  the  door  behind 
her, 


XXVI 

DUNHAM  lay  in  a  stupor  for  twenty-four  hoars, 
and  after  that  he  was  delirious,  with  dim  intervals 
of  reason  in  which  they  kept  him  from  talking,  till 
one  morning  he  woke  and  looked  up  at  Stamford 
with  a  perfectly  clear  eye,  and  said,  as  if  resuming 
the  conservation,  "  I  struck  my  head  on  a  pile  of 
chains." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Staniford,  with  a  wan  smile, 
"  and  you  Ve  been  out  of  it  pretty  near  ever  since. 
You  must  n't  talk." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  all  right,"  said  Dunham.  u  I  know 
about  my  being  hurt.  I  shall  be  cautious.  Have 
you  written  to  Miss  Hibbard  ?  I  hope  you  have  n't !  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Staniford.  "  But  I 
have  n't  sent  the  letter,"  he  added,  in  answer  to 
Dunham's  look  of  distress.  "  I  thought  you  wera 
going  to  pull  through,  in  spite  of  the  doctor,  —  he  'a 
wanted  to  bleed  you,  and  I  could  hardly  keep  his 
lancet  out  of  you,  —  and  so  I  wrote,  mentioning 
the  accident  and  announcing  your  complete  restora 
^on.  The  letter  merely  needs  dating  and  sealing 
I  '11  look  it  up  and  have  it  posted."  He  began  a 
search  in  the  pockets  of  his  coat,  and  then  went  to 
bis  portfolio. 

"  What  day  is  this  ?  "  asked  Dunham. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       301 

"  Friday,"  said  Stamford,  rummaging  his  port- 
folio. 

"  Have  you  been  in  Venice  ?  *' 

"Look  here,  Dunham!  If  you  begin  in  that 
iray,  I  can't  talk  to  you.  It  shows  that  you  're  still 
out  of  your  head.  How  could  I  have  be*m  in  Ven^ 
ice?" 

" But  Miss  Blood;  the  Aroostook "  — 

"  Miss  Blood  went  to  Venice  with  her  uncle  last 
Saturday.  The  Aroostook  is  here  in  Trieste.  The 
captain  has  just  gone  away.  He 's  stood  watch  and 
watch  with  me,  while  you  were  off  on  business." 

"  But  did  n't  you  go  to  Venice  on  Monday?  " 

"  Well,  hardly,"  answered  Staniford. 

"No,  you  stayed  with  me, — I  see,"  said  Dun- 
ham. 

"  Of  course,  I  wrote  to  her  at  once,"  said  Stam- 
ford, huskily,  "  and  explained  the  matter  as  well  ai 
I  could  without  making  an  ado  about  it.  But  now 
you  stop,  Dunham.  If  you  excite  yourself,  there  '11 
be  the  deuce  to  pay  again." 

"  I  'm  not  excited,"  said  Dunham,  "  but  I  can't 
help  thinking  how  disappointed —  But  of  course 
you  've  heard  from  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  's  hardly  time,  yet,"  said  Staniford, 
evasively. 

"  Why,  yes,  there  is.  Perhaps  your  letter  mis- 
carried." 

"  Don't !  "  cried  Staniford,  in  a  hollow  under- 
roice,  which  he  broke  through  to  add, i4  Go  to  sleep, 
now,  Dunham,  or  keep  quiet,  somehow." 


302  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOR. 

Dunham  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  Stamford 
continued  his  search,  which  he  ended  by  taking  the 
portfolio  by  one  corner,  and  shaking  its  contents 
out  on  the  table.  "I  don't  seem  to  find  it;  but 
I  've  put  it  away  somewhere.  I  '11  get  it."  He 
went  to  another  coat,  that  hung  on  the  back  of  a 
chair,  and  fumbled  in  its  pockets.  "  Hollo  !  Here 
are  those  letters  they  brought  me  from  the  post- 
office  Saturday  night,  —  Murray's,  and  Stanton's, 
and  that  bore  Farrington's.  I  forgot  all  about 
them."  He  ran  the  unopened  letters  over  in  hia 
hand.  "Ah,  here's  my  familiar  scrawl" —  He 
stopped  suddenly,  and  walked  away  to  the  window 
where  he  stood  with  his  back  to  Dunham. 

"  Stamford  !     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  —  it 's  my  letter  to  her,"  said  Stanif ord, 
without  looking  round. 

"Your  letter  to  Miss  Blood  — not  gone ? "  Stan- 
iford,  with  his  face  still  from  him,  silently  nodded, 
"  Oh  !  "  moaned  Dunham,  in  self-forgetful  compas- 
sion. "  How  could  it  have  happened?  " 

"  I  see  perfectly  well,"  said  the  other,  quietly, 
but  he  looked  round  at  Dunham  with  a  face  that 
was  haggard.  "  I  sent  it  out  to  be  posted  by  the 
portier,  and  he  got  it  mixed  up  with  these  letters 
for  me,  and  brought  it  back." 

The  young  men  were  both  silent,  but  the  tears 
itood  in  Dunham's  eyes.  "  If  it  had  n't  been  for 
or (6,  it  would  n't  have  happened,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  gently  retorted  Staniford,  "  if  it  had  n' 


THE  LADY   OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  303 

b«en  for  me,  it  would  n't  have  happened.  I  made 
vou  come  from  Messina  with  me,  when  you  wanted 
to  go  on  to  Naples  with  those  people ;  if  I  'd  had 
any  sense,  I  should  have  spoken  fully  to  her  before 
we  parted ;  and  it  was  I  who  sent  you  to  see  if  she 
wrere  on  the  steamer,  when  you  fell  and  hurt  your 
lelf  I  know  who  's  to  blame,  Dunham.  What  daj 
did  I  tell  you  this  was  ?  " 

"  Friday." 

"  A  week !  And  I  told  her  to  expect  me  Mon- 
day afternoon.  A  week  without  a  word  or  a  sign 
of  any  kind !  Well,  I  might  as  well  take  passage 
111  the  Aroostook,  and  go  back  to  Boston  again." 

"Why,  no!"  cried  Dunham,  "you  must  take 
the  first  train  to  Venice.  Don't  lose  an  instant. 
You  can  explain  everything  as  soon  as  you  see 
her." 

Staniford  shook  his  head.  "  If  all  her  life  had 
been  different,  if  she  were  a  woman  of  the  world,  it 
would  be  different ;  she  would  know  how  to  ac- 
count for  some  little  misgivings  on  my  part ;  but  as 
it  is  she  would  n't  know  how  to  account  for  even  the 
appearance  of  them.  What  she  must  have  suffered 
ill  this  week —  I  can't  think  of  it !  "  He  sat  down 
and  turned  his  face  away.  Presently  he  sprang  up 
again.  "  But  I  'm  going,  Dunham.  I  guess  you 
won't  die  now ,  but  you  may  die  if  you  like.  I 
would  go  over  your  dead  body .  " 

"  Now  you  are  talking  sense,"  said  Dunham. 

Stenif ord  did  not  listen ,  he  had  got  out  his  rail 


304       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

road  guide  and  was  studying  it.  "  No  ;  there  ate 
only  those  two  trains  a  day.  The  seven  o'clock  has 
gone ;  and  the  next  starts  at  ten  to-night.  Groat 
heavens!  I  could  walk  it  sooner!  Dunham,"  he 
asked,  "  do  you  think  I  'd  better  telegraph  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  say  ?  " 

4<  Say  that  there  's  been  a  mistake  ;  that  a  letter 
miscarried ;  that  I  '11  be  there  in  the  morning , 
that"  — 

"Wouldn't  that  be  taking  her  anxiety  a  little 
too  much  for  granted  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  true.  Well,  you  've  got  your  wits 
about  you  now,  Dunham,"  cried  Staniford,  with 
illogical  bitterness.  "Very  probably,"  he  added, 
gloomily,  "  she  does  n't  care  anything  for  me,  after 
all." 

"  That 's  a  good  frame  of  mind  to  go  in,"  said 
Dunham. 

"  Why  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Stamford.  "  Did  I  evei 
presume  upon  any  supposed  interest  in  her  ?  " 

"  You  did  at  first,"  replied  Dunham. 

Staniford  flushed  angrily.  But  you  cannot  quar- 
rel with  a  man  lying  helpless  on  his  back  ;  besides, 
what  Dunham  said  was  true. 

The  arrangements  for  Staniford's  journey  were 
quickly  made,  —  so  quickly  that  when  he  had  seen 
the  doctor,  and  had  been  down  to  the  Aroostook 
and  engaged  Captain  Jenness  to  come  and  take  hia 
place  with  Dunham  for  the  next  two  nights,  he  had 
Vwelve  hours  on  his  hands  before  the  train  f<M 


THE  LADT  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       305 

Venice  would  leave,  and  he  started  at  last  with  but 
one  clear  perception,  —  that  at  the  soonest  it  must 
be  twelve  hours  more  before  he  could  see  her. 

He  had  seemed  intolerably  slow  in  arriving  on 
the  train,  but  once  arrived  in  Venice  he  wished 
that  he  had  come  by  the  steamboat,  which  would 
not  be  in  for  three  hours  yet.  In  despair  he  went 
to  bed,  considering  that  after  he  had  tossed  there 
till  he  could  endure  it  no  longer,  he  would  still 
have  the  resource  of  getting  up,  which  he  would 
not  have  unless  he  went  to  bed.  When  he  lay 
down,  he  found  himself  drowsy ;  and  while  he  won- 
dered at  this,  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  a  strange 
dream,  so  terrible  that  he  woke  himself  by  groan- 
ing in  spirit,  a  thing  which,  as  he  reflected,  he  had 
never  done  before.  The  sun  was  piercing  the  crev- 
ice between  his  shutters,  and  a  glance  at  his  watch 
showed  him  that  it  was  eleven  o'clock. 

The  shadow  of  his  dream  projected  itself  into 
his  waking  mood,  and  steeped  it  in  a  gloom  which 
he  could  not  escape.  He  rose  and  dressed,  and 
meagrely  breakfasted.  Without  knowing  how  he 
came  there,  he  stood  announced  in  Mrs.  Erwin's 
parlor,  and  waited  for  her  to  receive  him. 

Hifl  card  was  brought  in  to  her  where  she  lay 
in  bed.  After  supporting  Lydia  through  the  first 
sharp  shock  of  disappointment,  she  had  yielded  to 
ttie  prolonged  strain,  and  the  girl  wa»  now  tak- 
ing care  of  her.  She  gave  a  hysterical  laugh  a* 
the  read  the  name  on  the  card  Veronica  brought* 

20 


806       THE  LADY  OB  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

»nd  crushing  it  in  her  hand,  "  He 's  come  I "  she 
cried. 

"  I  will  not  see  him  !  "  said  Lydia  instantly. 

"  No,"  assented  her  aunt.  "  It  would  n't  be  at 
all  the  thing  Besides,  he  'a  asked  for  me.  Your 
uncle  might  see  him,  but  he 's  out  of  the  way  ;  of 
course  he  would  be  out  of  the  way.  Now,  let  me 
gee  !  "  The  excitement  inspired  her ;  she  rose  in 
bed,  and  called  for  the  pretty  sack  in  which  she 
ordinarily  breakfasted,  and  took  a  look  at  herself  in 
a  hand-glass  that  lay  on  the  bed.  Lydia  did  not 
move  ;  she  scarcely  seemed  to  breathe  ;  but  a  swift 
pulse  in  her  neck  beat  visibly.  "If  it  would  be 
decent  to  keep  him  waiting  so  long,  I  could  dress, 
and  see  him  myself.  I  'm  well  enough."  Mrs, 
Erwin  again  reflected.  "  Well,"  she  said  at  last, 
"you  must  see  him,  Lydia." 

«I"  —  began  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  you.  Some  one  must.  It  will  be  all 
right.  On  second  thought,  I  believe  I  should  send 
you,  even  if  I  were  quite  ready  to  go  myself.  This 
affair  has  been  carried  on  so  far  on  the  American 
plan,  and  I  think  I  shall  let  you  finish  it  without 
my  interference.  Yes,  as  your  uncle  said  when  I 
told  him,  you  're  all  Americans  together  ;  and  you 
are.  Mr.  Staniford  has  come  to  see  you,  though  he 
asks  for  me.  That 's  perfectly  proper  ;  but  I  can't 
«ee  him,  and  I  want  you  to  excuse  me  to  him." 

44  What  would  you  —  what  must  I  "  —  Lydii 
tegan  again. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       307 

44 No,  Lydia,"  interrupted  her  aunt.  "I  won't 
tell  you  a  thing.  I  might  have  advised  you  when 
you  first  came  ;  but  now,  I  —  Well,  I  think  I  've 
lived  too  long  in  Europe  to  be  of  use  in  such  a  case, 
and  I  won't  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  won't 
tell  you  how  to  meet  him,  or  what  to  say ;  but 
oh,  child," — here  the  woman's  love  of  loving 
triumphed  in  her  breast,  —  "I  wish  I  was  in  your 
plaxie !  Go  !  " 

Lydia  slowly  rose,  breathless. 

"  Lydia  !  "  cried  her  aunt.  "  Look  at  me  I " 
Lydia  turned  her  head.  "  Are  you  going  to  be 
hard  with  him?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  's  coming  for,"  said  Lydia 
dishonestly. 

"  But  if  he  's  coming  for  what  you  hope  ?  " 

"  I  don't  hope  for  anything." 

"But  you  did.  Don't  be  severe.  You  're  terri- 
ble when  you  're  severe." 

"  I  will  be  just." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  must  n't,  my  dear.  It  won't  do  at 
all  to  be  just  with  men,  poor  fellows.  Kiss  me, 
Lydia !  "  She  pulled  her  down,  and  kissed  her. 
When  the  girl  had  got  as  far  as  the  door,  "  Lydia, 
Lydia ! "  she  called  after  her.  Lydia  turned. 
u  Do  you  realize  what  dress  you  've  got  on  ? r* 
Lydia  look  down  at  her  robe  ;  it  was  the  blue 
dannel  yachting-suit  of  the  Aroostook,  which  she 
had  put  on  for  convenience  in  taking  care  of  hei 
»unt  "  Is  n't  it  too  ridiculous  ?  "  Mrs.  Erwin 


308  THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

meant  to  praise  the  coincidence,  not  to  blame  .the 
dress.  Lydia  smiled  faintly  for  answer,  and  the 
next  moment  she  stood  at  the  parlor  door. 

Staniford,  at  her  entrance,  turned  from  looking 
out  of  the  window  and  saw  her  as  in  his  dream,  with 
her  hand  behind  her,  pushing  the  door  to  ;  but  tha 
fa.ce  with  which  she  looked  at  him  was  not  like  the 
dead,  sad  face  of  his  dream.  It  was  thrillingly 
alive,  and  all  passions  were  blent  in  it,  —  love, 
doubt,  reproach,  indignation ;  the  tears  stood  in 
her  eyes,  but  a  fire  burnt  through  the  tears.  With 
his  first  headlong  impulse  to  console,  explain,  de- 
plore, came  a  thought  that  struck  him  silent  at 
sight  of  her.  He  remembered,  as  he  had  not  till 
then  remembered,  in  all  his  wild  longing  and  fear- 
ing, that  there  had  not  yet  been  anything  explicit 
between  them ;  that  there  was  no  engagement ;  and 
that  he  had  upon  the  face  of  things,  at  least,  no 
right  to  offer  her  more  than  some  formal  expres- 
sion of  regret  for  not  having  been  able  to  keep  his 
promise  to  come  sooner.  While  this  stupefying 
thought  gradually  filled  his  whole  sense  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  all  else,  he  stood  looking  at  her  with 
*  dumb  and  helpless  appeal,  utterly  stunned  and 
wretched.  He  felt  the  life  die  out  of  his  face  and 
leave  it  blank,  and  when  at  last  she  spoke,  he  knew 
that  it  was  in  pity  of  him,  or  contempt  of  him: 
•*Mrs.  Erwin  is  not  well,"  she  said,  "and  sht 
Wished  me  "  — 

But  he  broke  in  upon  her .  "  Oh,  don't  talk  to 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       309 

me  of  Mrs.  Erwin !  It  was  you  I  wanted  to  see. 
Are  you  well  ?  Are  you  alive  ?  Do  you  "  —  He 
•topped  as  precipitately  as  he  began ;  and  after  an- 
other hopeless  pause,  he  went  on  piteously :  "  I 
don't  know  where  to  begin.  I  ought  to  have  been 
here  five  days  ago.  I  don't  know  what  you  think 
of  me,  or  whether  you  have  thought  of  me  at  all ; 
and  before  I  can  ask  I  must  tell  you  why  I  wanted 
to  come  then,  and  why  I  come  now,  and  why  I 
think  I  must  have  come  back  from  the  dead  to  see 
you.  You  are  all  the  world  to  me,  and  have  been 
ever  since  I  saw  you.  It  seems  a  ridiculously  un- 
necessary thing  to  say,  I  have  been  looking  and 
acting  and  living  it  so  long  ;  but  I  say  it,  because  I 
choose  to  have  you  know  it,  whether  you  ever 
cared  for  me  or  not.  I  thought  I  was  coming  here 
to  explain  why  I  had  not  come  sooner,  but  I  need 
n't  do  that  unless  —  unless  "  —  He  looked  at  her 
where  she  still  stood  aloof,  and  he  added :  "  Oh, 
answer  me  something,  for  pity's  sake  1  Don't  send 
me  away  without  a  word.  There  have  been  times 
when  you  would  n't  have  done  that !  " 

"  Oh,  I  did  care  for  you !  "  she  broke  out.  "  You 
know  I  did  "  — 

He  was  instantly  across  the  room,  beside  her. 
kl  Yes,  yes,  I  know  it !  "  But  she  shrank  away. 

"  You  tried  to  make  me  believe  you  cared  for 
me,  by  everything  you  could  do.  And  I  did  be- 
ieve  you  then  >  and  yes,  I  believed  you  afterwards, 
vheti  I  did  n't  know  what  to  believe.  You  wer« 


310       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

the  one  true  tiling  in  the  world  to  me.  But  it 
leems  that  you  did  n't  believe  it  yourself.'* 

"  That  I  did  n't  believe  it  myself  ?  That  I  —  1 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  took  a  week  to  think  it  over !  I  hav€ 
had  a  week,  too,  and  I  have  thought  it  over,  too. 
You  have  come  too  late." 

"Too  late?  You  don't,  you  can't,  mean  — 
Listen  to  me,  Lydia  ;  I  want  to  tell  you  "  — 

"No,  there  is  nothing  you  can  tell  me  that  would 
change  me.  I  know  it,  I  understand  it  all." 

"  But  you  don't  understand  what  kept  me." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  know  what  made  you  break 
your  word.  I  don't  care  to  know.  I  could  n't  go 
back  and  feel  as  I  did  to  you.  Oh,  that 's  gone  I 
It  is  n't  that  you  did  not  come  —  that  you  made 
me  wait  and  suffer ;  but  you  knew  how  it  would 
be  with  me  after  I  got  here,  and  all  the  things  I 
should  find  out,  and  how  I  should  feel !  And  you 
stayed  away  !  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  forgive 
you,  even  ;  oh,  I  'm  afraid  I  don't ;  but  I  can  never 
care  for  you  again.  Nothing  but  a  case  of  life  and 
death"  — 

"  It  was  a  case  of  life  and  death  I  " 

Lydia  stopped  in  her  reproaches,  and  looked  at 
him  with  wistful  doubt,  changing  to  a  tender  fear. 

"  Oh,  have  you  been  hurt  ?  Have  you  been 
lick  ?  "  she  pleaded,  in  a  breaking  voice,  and  made 
louie  unconscious  movement  toward  him.  He  put 
out  his  hand,  and  would  have  caught  one  of  hers, 
but  she  clasped  them  in  each  other. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.        811 

"  No,  not  I,  —  Dunham  "  — 

"Oh I"  said  Lydia,  as  if  this  were  not  at  ali 
anough. 

"  He  fell  and  struck  his  head,  the  night  you  left. 
I  thought  he  would  die."  Staniford  reported  his 
own  diagnosis,  not  the  doctor's;  but  he  was  per- 
haps in  the  right  to  do  this.  "  I  had  made  him  go 
iown  to  the  wharf  with  me ;  I  wanted  to  see  you 
again,  before  you  started,  and  I  thought  we  might 
find  you  on  the  boat."  He  could  see  her  face  re 
lenting  ; .  her  hands  released  each  other.  "  He  was 
delirious  till  yesterday.  I  could  n't  leave  him." 

"  Oh,  why  did  n't  you  write  to  me  ? "  She  ig- 
nored Dunham  as  completely  as  if  he  had  never 
lived.  "  You  knew  that  I "  —  Her  voice  died 
away,  and  her  breast  rose. 

"  I  did  write  "  — 

"  But  how,  —  I  never  got  it." 

'*  No,  —  it  was  not  posted,  through  a  cruel  blun- 
der. And  then  I  thought  —  I  got  to  thinking  that 
you  did  n't  care  "  — 

" Oh,"  said  the  girl.     "  Could  you  doubt  me?" 

"You  doubted  me,"  said  Stamford,  seizing  his 
advantage.  "  I  brought  the  letter  with  me  to 
prove  my  truth."  She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  she 
took  the  letter,  and  ran  it  greedily  into  her  pocket. 
*  It 's  well  I  did  so,  since  you  don't  believe  my 
rord." 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  yes,  I  know  it,"  she  said  •  "  I  nevei 
lonbted  it !  "  Staniford  stood  bemazed,  though  hi 


31  £  THE  LADY   OF   THE  AROOSTOOK. 

knew  enough  to  take  the  hands  she  yielded  him , 
but  she  suddenly  caught  them  away  again,  and  set 
them  against  his  breast.  "  I  was  very  wrong  to 
inspect  you  ever ;  I  'm  sorry  I  did ;  but  there  'a 
something  else.  I  don't  know  how  to  say  what  I 
want  to  say.  But  it  must  be  said." 

44  Is  it  something  disagreeable  ?  "  asked  Stamford, 
lightly. 

44  It 's  right,"  answered  Lydia,  unsmilingly. 

44  Oh,  well,  don't  say  it  I "  he  pleaded ;  "  or  don't 
say  it  now,  —  not  till  you  've  forgiven  me  for  the 
anxiety  I  've  caused  you ;  not  till  you  've  praised 
me  for  trying  to  do  what  I  thought  the  right  thing. 
You  can't  imagine  how  hard  it  was  for  one  who 
has  n't  the  habit !  " 

44 1  do  praise  you  for  it.  There  's  nothing  to  for- 
give you  ;  but  I  can't  let  you  care  for  me  unless  I 
know  —  unless" —  She  stopped,  and  then,  "Mr. 
Staniford,"  she  began  firmly,  "since  I  came  here, 
I  've  been  learning  things  that  I  did  n't  know  be- 
fore. They  have  changed  the  whole  world  to  me, 
find  it  can  never  be  the  same  again." 

44 1  'm  sorry  for  that ;  but  if  they  have  n't 
changed  you,  the  world  may  go." 

"No,  not  if  we're  to  live  in  it,"  answered  the 
girl,  with  the  soberer  wisdom  women  keep  at  such 
times.  44It  will  have  to  be  known  how  we  met. 
What  will  people  say  ?  They  will  laugh." 

44 1  don't  think  they  will  in  my  presence,"  saicl 
Staniford,-  with  swelling  nostrils.  44  They  may  use 
»heir  pleasure  elsewhere." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       813 

"  And  I  should  n't  care  for  their  laughing,  either," 
laid  Lydia.  "  But  oh,  why  did  you  come  ?  " 

"Why  did  I  come?" 

"  Was  it  because  you  felt  bound  by  anything 
that  's  happened,  and  you  would  n't  let  me  bear  the 
laugh  alone  ?  I  'm  not  afraid  for  myself.  I  shall 
never  blame  you.  You  can  go  perfectly  free." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  go  free !  " 

Lydia  looked  at  him  with  piercing  earnestness. 
"  Do  you  think  I  'm  proud  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  are,"  said  Staniford,  vaguely. 

"  It  is  n't  for  myself  that  I  should  be  proud  with 
other  people.  But  I  would  rather  die  than  bring 
ridicule  upon  one  I  —  upon  you." 

"I  can  believe  that,"  said  Staniford,  devoutly, 
and  patiently  reverencing  the  delay  of  her  scru- 
ples. 

"  And  if  —  and  "  —  Her  lips  trembled,  but  she 
steadied  her  trembling  voice.  "  If  they  laughed  at 
you,  and  thought  of  me  in  a  slighting  way  because  " 
—  Staniford  gave  a  sort  of  roar  of  grief  and  pain 
to  know  how  her  heart  must  have  been  wrung  be- 
fore she  could  come  to  this.  ~4  You  were  all  so  good 
that  you  did  n't  let  me  think  there  was  anything 
strange  about  it "  — 

"  Oh,  good  heavens  !  We  only  did  what  it  waa 
our  precious  and  sacred  privilege  to  do  !  We  were 
*U  of  one  mind  about  it  from  the  first.  But  don't 
torture  yourself  about  it,  my  darling.  It's  ovei 
tow ;  it 's  past  —  no,  it 's  present,  and  it  will  al 


314       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK. 

ways  be,  forever,  the  dearest  and  best  thing  in  ilfe 
Lydia,  do  you  believe  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  must !  " 

"  And  don't  you  believe  that  I  'm  telling  you  th* 
truth  when  I  say  that  I  would  n't,  for  all  the  world 
can  give  or  take,  change  anything  that 's  been  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  believe  you.  Oh,  I  have  n't  said  at 
all  what  I  wanted  to  say  !  There  was  a  great  deal 
that  I  ought  to  say.  I  can't  seem  to  recollect  it." 

He  smiled  to  see  her  grieving  at  this  recreance  of 
her  memory  to  her  conscience.  "  Well,  you  shall 
have  a  whole  lifetime  to  recall  it  in." 

"  No,  I  must  try  to  speak  now.  And  you  must 
•ell  me  the  truth  now,  —  no  matter  what  it  costs 
either  of  us."  She  laid  her  hands  upon  his  ex- 
tended arms,  and  grasped  them  intensely.  "  There 's 
something  else.  I  want  to  ask  you  what  you 
thought  when  you  found  me  alone  on  that  ship  with 
all  of  you."  If  she  had  stopped  at  this  point,  Stan- 
iford's  cause  might  have  been  lost,  but  she  went  on : 
" 1  want  to  know  whether  you  were  ever  ashamed 
of  me,  or  despised  me  for  it ;  whether  you  ever  felt 
that  because  I  was  helpless  and  friendless  there, 
you  had  the  right  to  think  less  of  me  than  if  you 
had  first  met  me  here  in  this  house." 

It  was  still  a  terrible  question,  but  it  offered  a 
loop-hole  of  escape,  which  Stamford  was  swift  to 
leize.  Let  those  who  will  justify  the  answer  with 
which  he  smiled  into  her  solemn  eyes :  "  I  will  leave 
you  to  say."  A  generous  uncandor  like  this  goes  aa 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AKOOSTOOK.       315 

far  with  a  magnanimous  and  serious-hearted  woman 
as  perhaps  anything  else. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it ! "  cried  Lydia.  And 
then,  as  he  caught  her  to  him  at  last,  "  Oh  —  oh  — 
are  you  sure  it 's  right  ?  " 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  answered  Stamford 
N"or  had  he  any  question  of  the  strategy  through 
which  he  had  triumphed  in  this  crucial  test.  He 
may  have  thought  that  there  were  always  explana- 
tions that  had  to  be  made  afterwards,  or  he  may 
have  believed  that  he  had  expiated  in  what  he  had 
done  and  suffered  for  her  any  slight  which  he  had 
felt ;  possibly,  he  considered  that  she  had  asked 
more  than  she  had  a  right  to  do.  It  is  certain  that 
he  said  with  every  appearance  of  sincerity,  "  It  be- 
gan the  moment  I  saw  you  on  the  wharf,  there,  and 
when  I  came  to  know  my  mind  I  kept  it  from  you 
only  till  I  could  tell  you  here.  But  now  I  wish  I 
had  n't  I  Life  is  too  short  for  such  a  week  as  this." 

"  No,"  said  Lydia,  "  you  acted  for  the  best,  and 
you  are  —  good." 

"  I  '11  keep  that  praise  till  I  Ve  earned  it,"  an* 
iwered  Staniford. 


xxvn 

IK  the  Campo  Santi  Apostoli  at  Venice  thett 
« bands,  a  little  apart  from  the  church  of  that  name, 
a  chapel  which  has  been  for  many  years  the  place 
of  worship  for  the  Lutheran  congregation.  It  was 
in  this  church  that  Staniford  and  Lydia  were  mar- 
ried six  weeks  later,  before  the  altar  under  Titian's 
beautiful  picture  of  Christ  breaking  bread. 

The  wedding  was  private,  but  it  was  not  quite  a 
family  affair.  Miss  Hibbard  had  come  down  with 
her  mother  from  Dresden,  to  complete  Dunham's 
cure,  and  she  was  there  with  him  perfectly  recov- 
ered ;  he  was  not  quite  content,  of  course,  that  tho 
marriage  should  not  take  place  in  the  English  chap- 
el, but  he  was  largely  consoled  by  the  candles  burn- 
ing on  the  altar.  The  Aroostook  had  been  delayed 
by  repairs  which  were  found  necessary  at  Trieste, 
and  Captain  Jenness  was  able  to  come  over  and  rep- 
resent the  ship  at  the  wedding  ceremony,  and  at 
the  lunch  which  followed.  He  reserved  till  the  mo- 
ment of  parting  a  supreme  expression  of  good- will 
When  he  had  got  a  hand  of  Lydia's  and  one  of 
Staniford's  in  each  of  his,  with  his  wrists  crossed, 
he  said,  "  Now,  I  ain't  one  to  tack  round,  and  stand 
off  and  on  a  great  deal,  but  what  I  want  to  say  ia 
\uat  this  :  the  Aroostook  sails  noxt  week,  and  if  you 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.  317 

rwo  are  a  mind  to  go  back  in  her,  the  ship  'a  yours, 
as  I  said  to  Miss  Blood,  here,  —  I  mean  Mis'  Stan- 
iford ;  well,  I  hain't  had  much  time  to  get  used  tc 
it-I  —  when  she  first  come  aboard  there  at  Boston. 
I  don't  mean  any  pay ;  I  want  you  to  go  back  aft 
my  guests.  You  can  use  the  cabin  for  your  parlor  , 
and  I  promise  you  I  won't  take  any  other  passen- 
gers this  time.  I  declare,"  said  Captain  Jenness, 
lowering  his  voice,  and  now  referring  to  Hicks  for 
the  first  time  since  the  day  of  his  escapade,  *'  I  did 
feel  dreadful  about  that  fellow !  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  replied  Stamford.  "  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Hicks  perhaps  I  mightn't  have 
been  here."  He  exchanged  glances  with  his  wife, 
that  showed  they  had  talked  all  that  matter  over. 

The  captain  grew  confidential.  "  Mr.  Mason  told 
me  he  saw  you  lending  that  chap  money.  I  hope 
he  did  n't  give  you  the  slip  ?  " 

"  No ;  it  came  to  me  here  at  Blumenthals'  the 
other  day." 

"  Well,  that 's  right  I  It  all  worked  together  for 
good,  as  you  say.  Now  you  come  I  " 

"  What  do  you  say,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Stamford, 
on  whom  the  poetic  fitness  of  the  captain's  proposal 
had  wrought. 

Women  are  never  blinded  by  romance,  however 
much  they  like  it  in  the  abstract.  "  It 's  coming 
winter.  Do  you  think  you  would  n't  be  seasick  ?  " 
;«turned  the  bride  of  an  hour,  with  the  practical 
wiadom  of  a  matron. 


31&       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROO&TOOK. 

Stamford  laughed.  "  She 's  right,  captain.  1  'ID 
ao  sailor.  I  '11  get  home  by  the  all-rail  route  as  fai 
as  I  can.'* 

Captain  Jenness  threw  back  his  head,  and  laughed 
too.  "  Good !  That 's  about  it."  And  he  released 
their  hands,  so  as  to  place  one  hairy  paw  on  a  shoul- 
der of  each.  "  You  '11  get  along  together,  I  guess." 

*'  But  we  're  just  as  much  obliged  to  you  as  if  we 
went,  Captain  Jenness.  And  tell  all  the  crew  that 
[  'm  homesick  for  the  Aroostook,  and  thank  all  for 
being  so  kind  to  me  ;  and  I  thank  you,  Captain 
Jenness !  "  Lydia  looked  at  her  husband,  and  then 
startled  the  captain  with  a  kiss. 

He  blushed  all  over,  but  carried  it  off  as  boldly 
as  he  could.  "  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  that 's  right  I 
If  you  change  your  minds  before  the  Aroostook  sails, 
you  let  me  know." 

This  affair  made  a  great  deal  of  talk  in  Venice, 
where  the  common  stock  of  leisure  is  so  great  that 
each  person  may  without  self-reproach  devote  a  much 
larger  share  of  attention  to  the  interests  of  the  oth- 
ers than  could  be  given  elsewhere.  The  decorous 
fictions  in  which  Mrs.  Erwin  draped  the  singular 
facts  of  the  acquaintance  and  courtship  of  Lydia 
and  Staniford  were  what  unfailingly  astonished  and 
amused  him,  and  he  abetted  them  without  scruple. 
He  found  her  worldliness  as  innocent  as  the  un- 
worldliness  of  Lydia,  and  he  gave  Mrs.  Erwin  his 
hearty  sympathy  when  she  ingenuously  owned  that 
the  effort  to  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  her  European 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK.       819 

acquaintance  was  simply  killing  her.  He  found 
endless  refreshment  in  the  contemplation  of  her  atti 
tude  towards  her  burdensome  little  world,  and  in 
her  reasons  for  enslaving  herself  to  it.  He  was  very 
good  friends  with  both  of  the  Erwins.  When  he 
could  spare  the  time  from  Lydia,  he  went  about  with 
her  uncle  in  his  boat,  and  respected  his  skill  in  row- 
ing it  without  falling  overboard.  He  could  not  see 
why  any  one  should  be  so  much  interested  in  the 
American  character  and  dialect  as  Mr.  Erwin  was , 
but  he  did  not  object,  and  he  reflected  that  after  all 
they  were  not  what  their  admirer  supposed  them. 

The  Erwins  came  with  the  Stanifords  as  far  as 
Paris  on  their  way  home,  and  afterwards  joined  them 
in  California,  where  Staniford  bought  a  ranch,  and 
found  occupation  if  not  profit  in  its  management. 
Once  cut  loose  from  her  European  ties,  Mrs.  Erwin 
experienced  an  incomparable  repose  and  comfort  in 
the  life  of  San  Francisco ;  it  was,  she  declared,  the 
life  for  which  she  had  really  been  adapted,  after  all ; 
and  in  the  climate  of  Santa  Barbara  she  found  all 
that  she  had  left  in  Italy.  In  that  land  of  strange 
and  surprising  forms  of  every  sort,  her  husband  haa 
been  very  happy  in  the  realization  of  an  America 
surpassing  even  his  wildest  dreams,  and  he  has  richly 
stored  his  note-book  with  philological  curiosities. 
He  hears  around  him  the  vigorous  and  imaginative 
locutions  of  the  Pike  language,  in  which,  like  the 
-ate  Canon  Kingsley,  he  finds  a  Scandinavian  huge- 
;  and  pending  the  publication  of  his  Hand- Boot 


820       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

of  Americanisms,  he  is  in  confident  search  of  th« 
miner  who  uses  his  pronouns  cockney-wise.  Like 
other  English  observers,  friendly  and  unfriendly,  he 
does  not  permit  the  facts  to  interfere  with  his  pre- 
conceptions. 

Stamford's  choice  long  remained  a  mystery  to  hit 
acquaintances,  and  was  but  partially  explained  bj 
Mrs.  Dunham,  when  she  came  home.  "  Why,  1 
suppose  he  fell  in  love  with  her,"  she  said.  "  Of 
course,  thrown  together  that  way,  as  they  were,  for 
six  weeks,  it  might  have  happened  to  anybody  ;  but 
James  Staniford  was  always  the  most  consummate 
flirt  that  breathed  ;  and  he  never  could  see  a  woman, 
without  coming  up,  in  that  metaphysical  way  of  his, 
and  trying  to  interest  her  in  him.  He  was  always 
laughing  at  women,  but  there  never  was  a  man  who 
cared  more  for  them.  From  all  that  I  could  learn 
from  Charles,  he  began  by  making  fun  of  her,  and 
all  at  once  he  became  perfectly  infatuated  with  her. 
I  don't  see  why.  I  never  could  get  Charles  to  tell 
me  anything  remarkable  that  she  said  or  did.  She 
was  simply  a  country  girl,  with  country  ideas,  and 
no  sort  of  cultivation.  Why,  there  was  nothing  to 
her.  He  's  done  the  wisest  thing  he  could  by  taking 
her  out  to  California.  She  never  would  have  gone 
down,  here.  I  suppose  James  Staniford  knew  that 
as  well  as  any  of  us  ;  and  if  he  finds  it  worth  while 
to  bury  himself  with  her  there,  we  've  no  reason  to 
x>mplain.  She  did  ring,  wonderfully ;  that  is,  hei 
foioe  was  perfectly  divine.  But  of  course  that  '• 


THE  LADY  OF   THE  AROOSTOOK.  321 

all  over,  now.  She  did  n't  seem  to  care  much  foi 
it ;  and  she  really  knew  so  little  of  life  that  I  don't 
believe  she  could  form  the  idea  of  an  artistic  career, 
or  feel  that  it  was  any  sacrifice  to  give  it  up.  James 
Stamford  was  not  worth  any  such  sacrifice  ;  but  she 
could  n't  know  that  either.  She  was  good,  I  sup- 
pose. She  was  very  stiff,  and  she  had  n't  a  word 
to  say  for  herself.  I  think  she  was  cold.  To  be 
lure,  she  was  a  beauty ;  I  really  never  saw  any- 
thing like  it,  —  that  pale  complexion  some  brunettes 
have,  with  her  hair  growing  low,  and  such  eyes  and 
lashes !  " 

"  Perhaps  the  beauty  had  something  to  do  with 
his  falling  in  love  with  her,"  suggested  a  listener. 
The  ladies  present  tried  to  look  as  if  this  ought  not 
to  be  sufficient. 

"Oh,  very  likely,"  said  Mrs.  Dunham.  She 
added,  with  an  air  of  being  the  wreck  of  her  former 
self,  "  But  we  all  know  what  becomes  of  beauty 
after  marriage." 

The  mind  of  Lydia's  friends  had  been  expressed  in 
regard  to  her  marriage,  when  the  Stanifords,  upon 
their  arrival  home  from  Europe,  paid  a  visit  to 
South  Bradfield.  It  was  in  the  depths  of  the  winter 
following  their  union,  and  the  hill  country,  stern  and 
wild  even  in  midsummer,  wore  an  aspect  of  savage 
desolation.  It  was  sheeted  in  heavy  snow,  through 
which  here  and  there  in  the  pastures,  a  craggy 
bowlder  lifted  its  face  and  frowned,  and  along  the 
Woods  the  stunted  pines  and  hemlocks  slackened 
si 


322       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

Against  a  background  of  leafless  oaks  and  birchea 
A  northwest  wind  cut  shrill  across  the  white  wastes, 
and  from  the  crests  of  the  billowed  drifts  drove  a 
scud  of  stinging  particles  in  their  faces,  while  the 
sun,  as  high  as  that  of  Italy,  coldly  blazed  from  a 
cloudless  blue  sky.  Ezra  Perkins,  perched  on  the 
neat  before  them,  stiff  and  silent  as  if  he  were  frozen 
there,  drove  them  from  Bradfield  Junction  to  South 
Bradfield  in  the  long  wagon-body  set  on  bob-sleda, 
with  which  he  replaced  his  Concord  coach  in  win- 
ter. At  the  station  he  had  sparingly  greeted  Lydia, 
as  if  she  were  just  back  from  Greenfield,  and  in  the 
interest  of  personal  independence  had  ignored  a 
faint  motion  of  hers  to  shake  hands ;  at  her  grand- 
father's gate,  he  set  his  passengers  down  without  a 
word,  and  drove  away,  leaving  Staniford  to  get  in 
his  trunk  as  he  might. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  said  Miss  Maria,  who  had 
taken  one  end  of  the  trunk  in  spite  of  him,  and  was 
leading  the  way  up  through  the  path  cleanly  blocked 
out  of  the  snow,  "that  Ezra  Perkins  is  enough  to 
make  you  wish  he  'd  stayed  in  Dakoty  1 " 

Staniford  laughed,  as  he  had  laughed  at  every 
thing  on  the  way  from  the  station,  and  had  proba 
oly  thus  wounded  Ezra  Perkins's  susceptibilities 
The  village  houses,  separated  so  widely  by  the  one 
long  street,  each  with  its  path  neatly  tunneled  from 
the  roadway  to  the  gate;  the  meeting-house,  so 
much  vaster  than  the  present  needs  of  worship,  and 
looking  blue-cold  with  its  never-renewed  single  ooal 


THE  LADY   OP  THE  AROOSTOOK.  323 

&f  white  paint ;  the  graveyard  set  in  the  midst  of 
fche  village,  and  showing,  after  Ezra  Perkins's  dis- 
appearance, as  many  signs  of  life  as  any  other  lo- 
cality, realized  in  the  most  satisfactory  degree  hit 
theories  of  what  winter  must  be  in  such  a  place  as 
South  Bradfield.  The  burning  smell  of  the  sheet 
iron  stove  in  the  parlor,  with  its  battlemented  top 
of  filigree  iron  work;  the  grimness  of  the  horse- 
hair-covered best  furniture ;  the  care  with  which 
the  old-fashioned  fire-places  had  been  walled  up, 
and  all  accessible  character  of  the  period  to  which 
the  house  belonged  had  been  effaced,  gave  him  an 
equal  pleasure.  He  went  about  with  his  arm  round 
Lydia's  waist,  examining  these  things,  and  yielding 
to  the  joy  they  caused  him,  when  they  were  alone 
u  Oh,  my  darling,"  he  said,  in  one  of  these  accesses 
of  delight,  "  when  I  think  that  it 's  my  privilege 
to  take  you  away  from  all  this,  I  begin  to  feel  not 
so  very  unworthy,  after  all." 

But  he  was  very  polite,  as  Miss  Maria  owned, 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Goodlow  came  in  during  the 
evening,  with  two  or  three  unmarried  ladies  of  the 
village,  and  he  kept  them  from  falling  into  the 
frozen  silence  which  habitually  expresses  social  en- 
joyment in  South  Bradfield  when  strangers  are 
present.  He  talked  about  the  prospects  of  Italian 
Advancement  to  an  equal  state  of  intellectual  and 
moral  perfection  with  rural  New  England,  while 
Mr.  Goodlow  listened,  rocking  himself  back  and 
forth  in  the  hair-cloth  arm-chair.  Deacon  Latham, 


324       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

passing  his  hand  continually  along  the  stove  bat- 
tlements, now  and  then  let  his  fingers  rest  on  the 
sheet-iron  till  he  burnt  them,  and  then  jerked  them 
suddenly  away,  to  put  them  back  the  next  moment, 
in  his  absorbing  interest.  Miss  Maria,  amidst  a 
murmur  of  admiration  from  the  ladies,  paas^ad 
sponge-cake  and  coffee:  she  confessed  afterward* 
that  the  evening  had  been  so  brilliant  to  her  as  to 
seem  almost  wicked ;  and  the  other  ladies,  who 
owned  to  having  lain  awake  all  night  on  her  coffee, 
said  that  if  they  had  enjoyed  themselves  they  were 
properly  punished  for  it. 

When  they  were  gone,  and  Lydia  and  Stamford 
had  said  good-night,  and  Miss  Maria,  coming  in  from 
the  kitchen  with  a  hand-lamp  for  her  father,  ap- 
proached the  marble-topped  centre-table  to  blow  out 
the  large  lamp  of  pea-green  glass  with  red  woollen 
wick,  which  had  shed  the  full  radiance  of  a  sun- 
burner  upon  the  festival,  she  faltered  at  a  manifest 
unreadiness  in  the  old  man  to  go  to  bed,  though  the 
fire  was  low,  and  they  had  both  resumed  the  droop- 
ing carriage  of  people  in  going  about  cold  houses. 
He  looked  excited,  and,  so  far  as  his  unpracticed 
risage  could  intimate  the  emotion,  joyous. 

"  Well,  there,  Maria  I  "  he  said.  "  You  can't 
bay  but  what  he  's  a  master-hand  to  converse,  any 
way.  I  d'  know  as  I  ever  see  Mr.  Goodlow  more 
•truck  up  with  any  one.  He  looked  as  if  every  word 
lone  him  good ;  I  presume  it  put  him  in  mind  ol 
meetin's  with  brother  ministers :  I  don't  suppose  bitf 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  ABOOSTOOK.  826 

*rhat  he  misses  it  some,  here.  You  can't  say  but 
what  he  's  a  fine  appearin*  young  man.  I  d  know 
&s  I  see  anything  wrong  in  his  kind  of  dressin'  up 
to  the  nines,  as  you  may  say.  As  long  's  he  '§ 
got  the  money,  I  don't  see  what  harm  it  is.  It  '• 
all  worked  for  good,  Lyddy's  going  out  that  way  , 
though  it  did  seem  a  mysterious  providence  at  the 
time." 

"  Well  I  "  began  Miss  Maria.  She  paused,  as  if 
she  had  been  hurried  too  far  by  her  feelings,  and 
ought  to  give  them  a  check  before  proceeding. 
"  Well,  I  don't  presume  you  'd  notice  it,  but  she  's 
got  a  spot  on  her  silk,  so  't  a  whole  breadth  's  got 
to  come  out,  and  be  let  in  again  bottom  side  up.  I 
guess  there  's  a  pair  of  'em,  for  carelessness."  She 
waited  a  moment  before  continuing:  "I  d'  know 
as  I  like  to  see  a  husband  puttin'  his  arm  round  his 
wife,  even  when  he  don't  suppose  any  one  's  lookin' ; 
but  I  d'  know  but  what  it 's  natural,  too.  But  it 's 
one  comfort  to  see  't  she  ain't  the  least  mite  silly 
about  him.  He  's  dreadful  freckled."  Miss  Maria 
again  paused  thoughtfully,  while  her  father  burnt 
his  fingers  on  the  stove  for  the  last  time,  and  took 
them  definitively  away.  "  I  don't  say  but  what  he 
talked  well  enough,  as  far  forth  as  talkin'  goes ;  Mr. 
Goodlow  said  at  the  door  't  he  did  n't  know  's  he 
ever  passed  many  such  evenin's  since  he  'd  been  in 
South  Bradfield,  and  I  d'  know  as  I  have.  I  pre- 
lume  he  has  his  faults ;  we  ain't  any  of  us  perfect ; 
but  he  doos  seem  terribly  wrapped  up  in  Lyddy 


326       THE  LADY  OF  THE  AROOSTOOK. 

I  don't  say  but  what  he  '11  make  her  a  good  ho*- 
band,  if  she  must  have  one.  I  don't  suppose  but 
what  people  might  think,  as  you  may  say,  't  she  'd 
made  out  pretty  well ;  and  if  Lyddy  's  suited,  I 
d'  know  as  anybody  else  has  got  any  call  to  be  over 
particular," 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


50m-6,'67(H2523s8)2373 


PS2025.L3  1907 


21 06 00207  2293 


